"Hah. No pressure at all," I muttered. "What on earth have I got myself into? I'll do my best, though. Don't worry, Tyler."
"Oh? Am I Mister T?" Tyler asked, a flicker of happiness lighting up his tired face.
"Yeah. T for 'tattered'." Pats informed.
"Oh." His face fell.
"How do you manage to get paler every time I look at you? It's actually concerning." Patricia's bluntness instantly killed his smile, but she wasn't wrong. He looked like he was one deadline away from a total collapse.
We headed back to work shortly after that. It was a frantic period, so I spent the majority of my day darting back and forth, offering support where it was needed and absorbing new information on the fly.
Since I hadn't been assigned a specific responsibility yet, I needed to get a bird's-eye view of every department. The manager wanted to see where I'd fit best once this project wrapped up.
