Finding Obsidian

29 - We Need To Talk About Kevin

But maybe that had changed, too. I was starting to realize that perhaps it wasn't just his exterior that was different—maybe all of him had disappeared, swallowed up by the trauma of the last three years.

Anyways, back to the ball. I couldn't keep my mind off the mystery person—even judging from a vague, shadowed outline, they seemed so damn familiar—and that negatively affected my chats with the evaluators. Rian, as far as I knew, was still distracted, so there was no ground covered there. The night wasn't off to a great start, and it would only get worse.

Remember, Kevin was coming.

On to Exhibit 2:

Later, I saw Rian return to his rounds and continue smooth-talking several evaluators at once. I myself had moved on to a crowd of them, and was spinning an entertaining tale on a certain—now fictional—she-demon.

"Believe me, I had never run that quickly in my life!" I exclaimed, pasting an exaggerated smile on my face. Laughter roared up around me, and I felt a twinge of satisfaction at how easy they were to manipulate.

I whisked a canapé off a passing tray, still surrounded by merriment. "Thank you, Rikki," I murmured under my breath, popping it into my mouth.

Hm. That's a sentence I never thought I'd say.

My self-congratulation was disturbed by a sudden shriek behind me. I turned in surprise, as did several of my counterparts, to see what the commotion was.

Several glasses of champagne were smashed on the floor. A haughty-looking woman, who I guessed was the source of that infernal screech, had a hand on her chest and was glaring at a nearby server.

I stifled a groan as I spotted Rian in the middle of the mess. This wasn't going to turn out well.

A few older men began yelling at the poor server, who hunched his shoulders and started to pick up the shards of glass on the floor. 

I scowled as he piled them up on his tray, spotting him wince when one of them cut his finger. Those stupid evaluators just kept hurling insults, and I felt my fists clench.

Why did Prof even deal with these horrible people?

Because without them, that program you're enrolled in would have zero funding.

Right. I had to keep my head, no matter how much I wanted to put those idiots in their place. I was one of Prof's students. Anything I did would reflect badly on him. 

I gritted my teeth, resigned to the fact that I could do nothing.

"Ugh," one of the vultures nearby muttered. "It's so difficult to find good help nowadays." 

My gaze darkened as I heard the unsavoury comment. That was it.

Screw this.

I whirled on them, opening my mouth with full intent on bringing them down a few pegs. Or maybe driving them into the floor entirely.

But before I could, a deep voice rang out across the room.

"Excuse me?" Rian boomed, turning to one of the men standing over the server. I caught my breath when I saw his face—that menacing, ice-cold glare was back in full force. 

My own righteous anger drained away, caught in the wave of dark anger emanating from Rian.

"This man has done nothing wrong," he announced, taking a menacing step towards the older evaluators, who'd been struck dumb by the sudden threat Rian posed. They reared back slightly as he advanced, which sent a surge of satisfaction coursing through me.