“It looks like Calibri isn’t in the best of moods.” Garamond’s glance followed the poor recruit that had been propelled down the corridor by Calibri’s volatile hook-and-toss. He smiles (as he often does in inappropriate situations), and hands the pouch of potato crisps over to Bentley. “Will you take care of these? I might as well see what’s got him worked up. I imagine his labs poor shape thanks to this whole ordeal."