She smiled, her red, curly hair matted against her face, and set down her clipboard with a relaxed sigh."Finally, I got it," she muttered in disbelief... "Everything else was easy, why did this one have to be so hard."She sighed again, then filled a vial with her creation and walked it to a locked cabinet nearby. Despite the fact that she wore a mask and goggles, as she put the vial next to some others of different colors she caught a whiff of... something. For a moment her head fogged up and she. Naomi Lawson-Smith sat in swivel chairs in a miserable minimalist office, high up in the sky of London , on the sixteenth floor. They had no words for one another; each had retreated to lick their wounds concerning the misguided experience. Yet work must go on. Christian Lawson-Smith was 38, tall, broad, olive skinned but a pain in the ass to work for, he had zero patience and was a surly bastard in the mornings. He wore unnecessary spectacles to emanate a higher intelligence. He had dark hair. More

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