“Smartest man?” Gavin chuckled warmly, thankful for the chance to change the tack of the conversation to a lighter shade. “There was a Major League pitcher in the first half of the Twentieth Century, though I can’t recall his name, he often was quoted as saying ‘I’d rather be lucky than good.’ Now don’t you look at me that way, Sergeant Larson,” Gavin teased with a wag of his finger, “there’s no law to keep us British chaps from following baseball.”

“That’s all I am, Abby…” He gave the blond MP a quick wink and a broad smile. “Lucky.”

His deep blue eyes looked profoundly into Abby’s lighter and brighter azure ones. “Just like when I bumped into you in the halls of the Mountain. I ended up gaining two friends that day: you and Michael. That never would have happened without that scientifically unexplainable phenomenon known as fortune, and I am forever thankful for it.”

Gavin shifted his gaze downward, realizing just how intently he had been looking at Abby. He didn’t bother trying to hide the slight color that came to his fair cheeks, for he truly wasn’t embarrassed by his honesty, even when it was conveyed by the hue of his skin. 

“I attribute my good luck to my shoes,” he continued, giving the worn black Chucks a wiggle. Gavin smiled once more, and returned his eyes to look upon Abby. “So God help me if something were to ever happen to them. I’d be like a lost lamb.” 

There was a brief silence that fell over the lab then. It was a comfortable one, as if the quiet were merely the settling of a warm blanket that had been tossed into the air. It was the same kind of feeling that had lingered in Abby and Michael’s room in the Mountain years ago now. Gavin had finished reading that last chapter of Tolkien, and had looked up to find the mother-son pair soundly sleeping upon their bed. It had been a moment Gavin would forever cherish, and one that would always be counted among his fondest memories. 

Reluctantly, Gavin knew he had to respond to the more serious issues Abby had raised, and so he let the warm silence be pulled away with the sound of his voice. 

“I imagine it was a dire certainty,” he said with his expression becoming harder. “Once the General’s daughter was involved, the man’s fate was sealed. I can’t say that I could blame the General. If there were even the slightest solace gained from the murderer’s execution, I don’t doubt that I would have been compelled to do the same.”

“Still, I believe there is much more to be born out in the name of due-diligence. The apparent haste of it all, especially after hearing of the lack of a thorough investigation, as you described, is troubling. Though I hope there is nothing else to discover, we can’t let it go without truly [i]knowing[/i], can we?”

It was a rhetorical question, and Gavin knew Abby’s feeling on the matter. Downing the rest of his coffee, he set the mug down upon the nearby desk, and gave Abby a sideways grin. 

“It would be my pleasure to accompany you in meeting with Mr. Eadoré. I imagine I can keep up with his technical jawing, though I make no promises with the French accent. Hell, I have enough troubles sometimes trudging through my own dialect.”

Gavin chuckled. It was a hearty sound that followed him as he stood, and moved towards where his coffee pot still remained upon the warming plate. Picking up the carafe, he turned to freshen Abby’s mug before polishing the remainder off into his own cup. Blowing across the top of the steaming liquid, he consulted his smart device as it chirped within the hip pocket of his Levi’s. 

“Well,” he said with a smirk as he read Deli’s response to his earlier message. “I have an appointment coming in shortly, or I’d say we could go hunt down our French friend presently. I apologize for the delay, Abby. Shall I find you when I’m finished? Perhaps we could meet in the mess during the lunch hour?”