Things are bound to go to shit when people get to meet your vomit before properly meeting you. I sat in one of the swivel chairs with Finn on one side and the other three people of his team on the other. The woman, possibly in her thirties, with dark hair cut close to her chin and frameless glasses hanging low on her nose, was holding the second bottle of water in her hands to give to me once I finished the first. Everybody was watching me like a hawk. The need to be anywhere but in my own skin was overwhelming for a few seconds.
Once I drank all the water, I put the empty bottle on the table behind me, and smiled.
"All right, guys. Time to get to work."
Yes, they'd witnessed me at my weakest, and they'd seen what was inside my stomach—or had been until a few minutes ago—but I was just about ready to be done with this and leave.
"You sure you're okay, kid?" Finn asked me, raising a brow in question.
