Pete
As soon as Tom read it, he knew it was true. The guy sitting on the bed was Molly, head and beard shaved, dressed in disguise. But the thing that made Tom's mouth drop open was the realization that Molly was a Tron.
"You've gotta be kidding—" Max whispered. He stopped when Molly shook his head curtly, holding a finger to his lips again.
Molly stood, holding his hands out, palms forward, as if to say, Hold on—give me a second. Then he reached into the inner pocket of his suit coat and pulled out a small white box—the type in which you'd expect to find a necklace or bracelet, laid out all nice and pretty on a piece of velvet. He knelt down on the floor, placing the box gingerly on the bed, eyeing it like a ticking bomb he needed to disarm.
Max elbowed Tom, then raised his eyebrows. Tom shrugged and quickly looked back. Molly reached over and pulled off the top of the box, scooting as far back as he could.