“She’s my rival in a competition.” The women gasped. The men shifted in their seats, glancing at each other with taut silence. “You’re not an othologist are you?” asked the woman to the right. “Yes, I’m a—” “Cockermouth!” shouted the woman to the left. The men jolted, almost dropping their briefcases. But Devon only frowned with mild confusion. “I beg your pardon?”
