Ianto didn’t seem to notice. His eyes were unyielding—and, she noticed, they looked clearer. Sharper. “Your eyes. Your hair,” he said. “Beautiful.” Effy dug her fingernails into her palm. She regretted coming here at all. But she didn’t want to fail at her task. As much as it shocked her to realize it, she didn’t want to fail Preston.
Is she finally starting to think about Preston as a person rather than a stereotype and verbal punching bag?
