The corridor is quieter than the party room deserves.
Mia's feet are moving but she's not entirely directing them. The marble floor feels unstable in a way marble floors aren't supposed to feel.
She cannot currently walk in a straight line.
Clayton has her right arm. Claire is on her left, the grip there lighter now—more steering than restraining.
"Easy," Clayton says, close to her ear. Tobacco and something sweet underneath it, a combination that makes her stomach clench. "You're fine."
She is not fine.
She tries to pull her arm free and gets nowhere.
"Elias." She says it quietly. Not to them. Just—out loud. A fixed point.
Claire makes a small sound. "He's still in his interview, sweetheart."
They're moving toward the elevator bank.
Mia can see the panel from here—the down butto
