Old days, dice and investigator's manual

The sound of his breath was particularly jarring in the quiet corridor, carrying a strong sense of hostility.

Carlo stopped, glanced at Patch's hunched back, and took a bite of his pie: "Alright, alright, stop acting like this every time you see me. It's not like I haven't fed you before."

Patch remained unmoved, its tail held upright, and it breathed out another breath.

Isaac looked at Patch, then at Carlo, confirming that the hostility was clearly directed at Carlo: "Boss, it doesn't seem to like you. You, uh, did you do something to it?"

"I don't have any weird quirks, what could I possibly do to it?" Carlo stuffed the rest of the pie into his mouth and chewed. "At most, I'd use it to wipe my hands, or ruffle its fur when it's been groomed."

Isaac thought to himself that this was no innocent case; if it were him, he would have done the same.

After finishing the pie, Carlo clapped his hands, noticing the grease stains still on them, and then looked at Patch: "Come on, Patch, let me groom you."

Patch's tail flared even wider, and he twisted his body, trying to escape from between his legs. His movements were so agile that they were far beyond what ordinary people could catch, making it difficult for Hakimi to dodge.

But Carlo was faster; he bent down, reached out, and scooped it up from the ground.

Patch unfortunately fell into the clutches of evil. Carlo held it up with one hand, and it let out a series of dissatisfied cries, kicking its four paws a few times. But Carlo had already used a gentle, soothing motion to wipe the oil off his hands.

"Boss, are you sure everything's okay?"

"What could be wrong? I wiped my hands, and its fur was stroked, making it smell nice."

"What I mean is, won't Patch get dirty like this? All the oil will get on its fur."

"It's bound to get dirty eventually. Anyway, I'm not responsible for Patch's hygiene. Parker will give it a bath."

"Is Patch Kids Chief Patrick's protégé?"

"Isn't it obvious? Patch and Parker, they sound like they're close."

Isaac smirked as he watched Patch being held in Carlo's hand. Although Patch was still breathing on the ground, it didn't seem to be reaching out to scratch or bite. "Patch is quite gentle. It hasn't really made a move even after all this tormenting you've done to it."

"That's hard to say." Carlo let go of his hand, and Patch leaped a few steps away the moment it landed, turned back and hissed at him, then ran away with its tail held high. "If you hold it like that, you'll get a few scratches."

"Then why doesn't it attack you?"

"Because it knows I'll retaliate. It breathes on me to express its dissatisfaction, but it won't fight me over such a small amount. If it really pisses me off, I'll tie all its fur into knots."

Isaac was speechless. It seemed that Patch, like everyone else in the FBI, held Carlo in a kind of, well, awe.

"Also, about the clothing store, I just mentioned it to someone in the cafeteria," Carlo said. "An agent will be sent this afternoon to question them and go through the filing process. You can go with that person and pick up your clothes on the way."

"Should I go directly with that agent?"

"Do I really have to go there myself again? I have other things to do this afternoon."

Under normal circumstances, Isaac would guess that other things were preparations for tomorrow's operation, but as for Carlo, Isaac felt there was no need to think too much about it. Who knew what that guy was planning to do this afternoon?

Isaac agreed. Carlo took a couple of steps toward the office and then said, "By the way, if you go to the cafeteria now, you should be able to see the agent who was in charge of the case this afternoon, Andrew Grayson. He's a big, muscular man with a thick beard; he should be easy to recognize, since he has the thickest beard in the entire FBI. You can go and say hello to him."

Isaac walked toward the cafeteria. The peak dining hours had passed, and only a few tables were occupied. His gaze swept across the area and quickly locked onto the person Carlo had described.

A tall man with a large beard covering half his face was eating a plate of stewed potatoes and meat.

Isaac thought for a moment, then went to the window to get his food. Carrying the tray, he walked over and said, "Excuse me, sir, may I sit here?"

Grayson glanced up at him, gestured with his chin toward the chair opposite him, then looked down again to continue working on the food on his plate.

Isaac sat down opposite him, picked up his spoon, and was thinking about how to "greet" him when Grayson swallowed the food in his mouth and said, "Are you the new recruit that Section Chief Schuster is training?"

This was the first time Isaac had heard Carlo address him as "Section Chief": "Yes, my name is Isaac Lessing."

Grayson glanced at Isaac a few times: "Andrew Grayson, Second Division, Level 1 Agent. Chief Schuster mentioned you to me, saying you'd be going on a mission with me this afternoon."

Isaac thought to himself that Carlo had already taken care of things, and he didn't need to explain further: "I'll be troubling you this afternoon."

Grayson didn't say anything more, quickly finishing the last few potatoes on his plate: "See you at the FBI entrance at 2 PM."

After he finished speaking, he picked up his plate, stood up, nodded slightly to Isaac, and turned to leave. Isaac watched him go, feeling that Grayson's pace seemed a little fast.

He mentally reviewed Grayson's image: not talkative, efficient, and seemingly a pragmatic person who shouldn't be difficult to work with.

After lunch, Isaac returned to the Ninth Division office, where Carlo was lounging with his legs crossed, flipping through a booklet: "Did you see Grayson?"

"I saw him." Isaac sat down in his seat. "He seemed like a pretty serious person, not very talkative. He gave me the time and place and then left."

"Tsk tsk, don't be fooled by appearances. Grayson looks like a big, quiet guy, which makes you think he's an unapproachable tough guy. But actually..." Carlo closed the booklet and tossed it onto the table, "He's just shy."

"……what?"

"When you suddenly struck up a conversation with him, he was probably incredibly nervous."

Isaac was somewhat surprised that Grayson, who was usually quiet and gave off a calm and capable impression, was actually shy.

"Is there anything I need to be careful about? For example, not to be too casual in my speech, or..."

"Just be normal." Carlo waved his hand. "The difference between shyness and aloofness is that the former will try to respond positively, even though they often fail, while the latter will think you're crazy. Grayson is the former. Just speak as you normally would, and he won't think you're offensive; he'll just think he didn't respond well."

Isaac understood: "I understand."

A few minutes before 2 p.m., Isaac walked out of the FBI building and saw Grayson already standing at the door waiting for him.

Grayson had changed into casual clothes and was smoking a pipe. When he saw Isaac come out, Grayson took the pipe away from his mouth, shook off the ash, and stuffed it into his pocket.

"Let's go," Grayson said briefly, walking towards the street, with Isaac following behind.

Grayson didn't say much along the way, but with Carlo's earlier prompting, Isaac observed carefully and noticed that Grayson seemed to want to say something but hesitated when stopping at each intersection.

...It seems she's genuinely shy and hesitant to speak up.