“Mitchell,” said Victor. “Tell Sydney what you were in prison for.” “Hacking,” he said cheerfully. Sydney laughed. “Seriously? I had you pegged as more of a beat-someone-to-death-with-their-own-arm type.” “I’ve always been big,” said Mitch. “That’s not my fault.” He cracked his knuckles again. His hands were larger than the keyboard. “And the tattoos?” “It’s best to look the part.”
