The corridors of Goodwin Hall were dark, as if they were inspired by the mines the engineers on the lower floors were learning to build. Somehow, the computer science students on the upper floors didn’t seem to mind.
Mongrel looked through an open door at an empty classroom. The floors were clean enough, but the waste bin needed emptying. He shook his head and smiled to himself — someone else’s job now.
He heard a door close around the corner. Flaring his nostrils, he smelled feminine smells: make-up, something in her hair, Secret deodorant, and of course that ‘female’ scent. The beauty products he had to think about, to sort out chemical tangs. The other scent he just knew, as an instinct.
He listened to her footsteps: not high heels, but still percussive. She was coming his way. The moment before she came around the corner, he fought the urge to hide, duck into the open classroom. Then it passed, and the woman stepped into view.