The second session was three days later.
Same room. Same grey walls. Same table. But something had shifted in the quality of the air on Damien’s side of it, the particular atmosphere of people who had spent seventy-two hours reading documents they had hoped would contain a flaw and had not found one. His legal team arrived quieter than before. More careful with their language. The way people are careful when they have stopped being certain.
Damien arrived last again.
He sat down and opened his folder and did not look at me immediately, which told me he had decided something about how to manage today. He had spent the three days between sessions deciding where to put his eyes and how to hold his face and what version of himself to bring into this room. I could see the decision in the set
