Garrison nodded. "That works perfectly. The lab only has two months' worth of The White Microbe left. If they secure the samples smoothly... we might not even have to pause phase three of our trials."
"Trust our team!"
Zachary leaned back in his chair and picked up his teacup, his tone turning casual. "By the way, to get everyone acquainted, I'm organizing a small networking dinner next Friday at The Orchid Room. It'll give the core members of your Project Vitas team a chance to meet the five heroes heading to Antarctica. Building some rapport now will make the handover much smoother later. What do you think, Garrison?"
"I agree." Garrison nodded slightly. "Pre-mission socialization is often more effective than formal protocols."
"Then it's settled!" Zachary set his teacup down, suddenly remembering something. "Oh, right. Since it's a semi-formal occasion, you're welcome to bring your wife."
Dean Quinton was the only person at the hospital who had ever actually met Garrison's wife. He still remembered running into her late one night when she had personally rushed over to deliver stomach medicine while Garrison was working grueling hours in the lab.
He could tell from the desperate anxiety in her eyes just how deeply she loved her husband.
Yet Garrison... never seemed to treat her with the same devotion.
The old Dean hoped this dinner might force the workaholic doctor to step away from his research and pay a little attention to his family.
At the word 'wife,' Garrison's fingers stalled over the edge of the file.
"No need. She's... unwell right now." Garrison kept his eyes lowered, his tone as flat and even as ever, completely devoid of emotion.

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