Tommy opened the door to Wardrobe. “Welcome to another of Atari’s playgrounds. I’ve been out of the safe house twice so far in different disguises, and no one recognized me.” He motioned her inside. “Who do you want to be today?” She hesitated before she wandered into the racks of clothing.
The elevator key and Logan Daniels’ ID badge, which he’d used to gain entry to the OCSD, were on the dressing table where he’d left them. He picked up the short brown wig and glasses he’d worn to the Inaugural Link ceremony. This time when he put them on, the guy he saw in the mirror looked familiar.
She came back wearing a shapeless pair of coveralls.
“That’s a little utilitarian, don’t you think?”
She folded her arms. “I’m an anonymous member of the custodial crew. You look like Clark Kent in those glasses.”
Tommy stuck out his chest and grasped the front of his sweater as if he was about to rip it open. “You should see what I’ve got on under this. I’ll show you if you show me what you’re wearing under that uniform thing.”
“Or leave it on. I’m only kidding. You look better in it than Atari does.” Her face fell even more, and he stopped joking for a moment. “It’s all right to have fun for a few minutes. Why don’t you take a break from being Careen Catecher? Pretend to be someone else.”
She disappeared back into the depths of the hanging clothes, and when she returned, she was dressed in a hot pink top, jeans, and boots.
She chose a shoulder-length, light-brown wig from a stand and looked in the dressing table mirror as she tucked her ponytail inside.
“See how simple it is? You could go out like that, and no one would know it was you.” He stood beside her. “No one would know it was either of us. When we eventually get out of here we may have to rely on disguises.”
She pulled up her cuff to show the flashing light at her wrist. “The Link will know. I can’t pretend to be someone else, and, honestly, the only person I want to be is me.”
“Don’t pretend for me. Ever. Because I can’t pretend that I don’t care about you, or that I don’t find you intriguing—no matter whether you’re happy or sad, or what you look like, for that matter.” He brushed a strand of the light-brown hair off her cheek. “I’d know you anywhere.”
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