Birthright

"Mm. Well, these are hardly common circumstances." He set his cup on the little table and settled more comfortably in the chair. As his fingers laced loosely in his lap, Claymore more closely resembled a psychologist than a senior member of an organization tasked with diverting the apocalypse. From somewhere down the corridor, the sound of footsteps came to them, and then a heavy door closing on dry hinges.

"I understand you've just returned from America. You went against the Council's recommendation, did you not?"