But I’ve been watching Oakley Novak for some time now, and I’m beginning to question my fundamental understanding of human nature. Because she doesn’t change. When she walked into her apartment tonight, devastated from witnessing her source’s murder, she was the same person who left this morning—just sadder, more determined. No mask fell away when she closed her door. No hidden vices emerged when she thought no one was watching. Even her quirks remain consistent. She eats the same ridiculous snack combinations whether she’s at a crime scene or alone in her kitchen at 1 AM.
