The receptionist had made a terrible error in judgment. He'd made eye contact.
That was all it took with Lizzie. One second of accidental eye contact and now he was trapped behind his own desk while she leaned over it, wiggling an oversized handgun in front of his face with enthusiasm as she recounted the story of her mental battle.
"So I've got Betty here, right below its balls—" she tilted the gun, and the receptionist pressed himself further back against his chair with nowhere left to go, "—like this."
She pressed the barrel gently under his chin and the poor man went pale, eyes wide, sweat already beading on his forehead.
"Then I pulled—"
Suddenly, she stopped speaking or moving all together.
Her grin didn't disappear so much as it recalibrated. Her eyes went to the entrance, sharpened, and for a moment the gun just hung there, forgotten.
The entire lobby seemed to quiet around her as she registered Kurt, Cassandra, and the unfamiliar Minari girl standing beside them.
