“Excuse me, ma’am?” Cressi looked up, startled out of her musings to see the man at the desk looking at her. The puzzled look on his face fogged over her brain and for a few seconds she actually forgot to breath. “You said something about someone named Jose and you will probably want to clean up your language—a lot. Master T is quite strict when it comes to that sort of thing.” The hulking man who’d been sitting behind the tall counter was now standing and Cressi was changing her description of him to gargantuan. Holy shit, Sherlock what was your first clue? The fact he’s at least seven feet tall? Or perhaps it’s because his shoulders can’t possibly fit through doorways. Why on earth is he working here? How has he managed to elude the NFL?