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    Alec’s smile is brief, a wolfish flash of teeth—
          a crack in the otherwise smooth veneer of professional stoicism that he                             maintains on duty.

    "With all due respect sir, they could hit the South Lawn with a tactical nuke and I wouldn’t so much mind. But, keeping James out of trouble?“ He tips his head, breathes what might be a laugh.

    "You don’t ask for any small miracles, do you?”