Liam coughed.
Not a small one.
The kind that came from somewhere deep and brought everything with it, his whole body contracting around it, his hand going to his chest instinctively.
He pressed his palm flat against his sternum and coughed again and the sound of it was wrong in a room this quiet and this expensive.
He looked up at Stiles.
Stiles was watching him with the same expression he had worn for most of the evening. Mild. Unhurried. His hands still flat on the table, his green suit still sitting perfectly on his shoulders.
"Make your choice," Stiles said. "Before it goes further."
Liam straightened up as much as he could and looked around the room.
The couple by the window.
The woman had her head down now, her forehead resting on one hand, the other pressed flat on the table.
The man was leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed. Neither of them was moving much.
