The music carried on as if hallways were a rumor. Behind the door, applause rose for a toast that had missed its audience by three people.
The door opened a crack. A senior elder slid through, followed by two more and Norrie, who had the look of someone calculating how to keep a ceiling from falling with only a clipboard. They took in Evans's split lip, the angle of Alexander's shoulders, my place between them.
“Enough," the eldest said quietly. He had a silver braid that people mistook for wisdom until he spoke and proved it. “This is not a boxing ring."
Evans rolled his jaw once and wiped his mouth with his thumb. “Then tell him to keep his hands to himself."
Alexander didn't look at the elders. He looked at me, then at Evans, and put his words where they belonged. “If you touch her
