“Should I…” Matthew pointed at the empty chairs in the reception area. “Or?”
“Absolutely not!” Volos frowned, as though Matthew’s idea of waiting in reception was an idea that was not only ridiculous but close to unimaginable. “Get yourself a coffee. Go to the lounge. Grab a wink or two of sleep, if you’d like. We’ll find you.” He smiled again. “No worries about that.”
Why that expression made Matthew want to cringe was beyond his understanding. When Volos turned and walked away, however, the relief Matthew felt was so powerful he could have slumped into one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs anyway.
* * * *
Matthew slammed into the small restroom that made up part of the boardroom harder than he’d intended, but much more gently than he would have liked to, and stood in front of the mirror with one hand over his forehead, his eyes closed, and his breath coming out in exaggerated exhales. Mad, they were all mad. Insane, really.