Alistair blinked. "You're joking."
"No," Lucas said, entirely serene. "That was the 'do not press unless threatened or emotionally drained' button. Guess which one I qualify for."
"Lucas," Alistair began, hands raised, "I'm not here to start anything."
"Then you should've brought a latte and an appointment," Lucas replied. "Because this isn't the time, and you sure as hell aren't the priority."
From down the hall came rapid footsteps—firm, familiar, and not at all happy.
Seconds later, the door beeped once and slid open with force.
Trevor entered first, followed by Windstone with all the calm of a man who had prepared for this.
Trevor's eyes went straight to Lucas. "What happened?"
Lucas gestured to the room. "He came in. I pressed the button."
Windstone looked at Alistair. Then at the locked windows. Then at the faintly flickering lights.
"Appropriate response," he said.
Alistair exhaled slowly. "Trevor, I wasn't—"
