Their code was spaghetti when I got there, but I sorted it out. Visicon was pretty chill, but the challenge is over now. Ready to move on.” The young man leaned back in the leather chair that had been delivered just yesterday, Rae having decided that furnishing the conference room was top priority for exactly this reason. The kid’s jeans were appropriately skinny, the designer jacket over the black T-shirt clearly carefully chosen for its panache. Alec knew that none of these guys wore a tie anymore—hell, he never did either, not unless it was absolutely necessary—but he’d wondered, when he’d seen the retro black high-tops with their white rubber caps, if they hadn’t gone a little far down the road. He was less than ten years older than—Simon, he thought with a glance down at the resume in front of him, but he wouldn’t have worn jeans to an interview. Or tennis shoes. Still, Ethan said the guy could write code, and Ethan was a friend of Joe’s, so who cared if the kid was a little cocky?
