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O'Reilly wasn't even a very good company clerk. Blake wasn't sure why he had picked him for the job. He was only good at one thing, and it was mostly just a damned irritating thing. "Don't even try reading my mind again," Blake snapped, looking up to find - once again - that the form he'd just thought of asking for was sitting on his desk and O'Reilly was looking as if he expected to be thanked for it. "It's the second time I've caught you rummaging around in my head." He glared at O'Reilly, and thought of fog.