I still wasn’t sure of the logistics of a snake having a kid. Hell, I wasn’t even sure I believed it was her kid. The thing about running is that it is a need to know environment. The Johnson always tells you what they think you need to know, never mind if what they tell you is a flat out lie. For them it is not a question of truth but one of ease and convenience.
There wasn’t any food in my apartment, at least not anything I could eat. The trideo still wasn’t working so the best I could do was ride my commlink into the matrix and find a postgame feed to let me know if I owed money or was due some. Lucky day. My team won. Pyrrhic victory though, the reports suggested our QB might be out for the rest of the season. I diverted from that disappointment down the long rabbit hole to figuring out who this person was I would be protecting.
Peter Choi was not a Naga. By all accounts Choi was a plain human with no evidence or history of magical ability. He was originally from Singapore, which made sense. Singapore was one of the places that accepted Naga as citizens, so if he was adopted it would mean that Ms. Johnson was a citizen of somewhere.
I jacked out when my proximity detector informed me that someone was ringing my doorbell. That didn’t make sense. I didn’t have a single neighbor who liked me enough to say hello. That meant whomever it was wasn’t from the building. That was also a problem, because nobody else was supposed to know where I lived.