I made it to the car before I turned into a trembling mess, and slowly sat down on the front seat. Finesilver pulled a bottle of water from the footwell and passed it to me.
“Sorry,” I said, when I could get the words out. “That was…that was…”
He gave me a look which I chose to interpret as genuinely sympathetic. “Please don’t worry. I understand how charged such situations can be.”
“I…I talked when I wasn’t supposed to.”
“I was not, in all honesty, expecting otherwise.”
I took another gulp of water. “You were amazing.”
“Thank you.”
“No, but…like. That was like proper superhero lawyer shit.”
“At the risk of repeating that most obvious of clichés, I was just doing my job.”
“For which”—I mustered a soggy smile—“you are more than proportionally compensated.”
He laughed. “Exactly.”
