The team was packed and ready to go, waiting in the hotel lobby, yet they couldn't depart. Their leader was absolutely nowhere to be found. And while Nemean, Bastion, and Altair shoved aside any concerns, others couldn't do the same.
Alice sat upon a plush leather seat with her legs and arms crossed in frustration, her brows wrinkled, and lips pursed.
Lillian was in a similar condition, just not from a seated state. She hugged her breast, pacing back and forth, frequently ending her strides with an anxious, nonstop tapping of her heels.
The last of the distraught and concerned was Allan, who screamed into his receiver. People tried to keep their eyes away from him, but it was hard to do when he indignantly shouted into his wrist.
Was he a madman? Did his date possibly stand him up?
Allan heard the whispers, but his anger took control, burying his reason, decorum, and usual diffidence.
