Chapter 950 Barging In
- Alex
- Walls of ice reflect an icy blue, turning the scratch paper littered over my metal desk a hazy cerulean. My gloved hands steadily manage a pen after years of practice, but many of my lab assistants and postdocs still grumble about my nearly unintelligible handwriting.
- In my defense, I had to learn an entirely new written language in my early twenties.