The Games We Play
Refusing to think, Sylas stood, preparing to leave.
“Editor Sylas, What do you think?” Someone in the collected group asked about something, but Pat was too distracted. He didn’t mind them; even as an editor, Pat’s head had no insights to share. Pat just wanted to be out of there. Paul walked outside, a few steps from the bench, and blocked the sliding doors.
“Ah, Mr. Sylas, leaving so soon,” Paul puffed up. “We still have time to plan.”
“My apologies, sir, I’m afraid I have a prior engagement after here,” Pat stated. His boss raised an eyebrow.