Gathering of the Trons
A knock at the door snapped Feng's attention; he realized he'd been staring at a small smudge on the wall to the right of his desk. At the moment, Feng felt for all the world like he and the dirty spot shared a lot in common.
Though he already knew the answer, Feng asked anyway. "Who is it?"
"It's me—who else?" replied the muffled voice of Silver Head. "Do you really have to keep the door closed? My poor knuckles are getting bruised from knocking every time."
"Yeah, right," Sato thought. "For goodness' sake, this guy is a robot, a metal. Whatever.
"Hold on."
Feng quickly gathered his latest notes and reports and filed them away in his desk drawers. Though he'd played the part of a trusting friend to Silver Head for weeks, he still had his doubts about the short, square robot. Anyone can be a spy.