Emily, meanwhile, wanted nothing more than to shower and collapse into bed like a cat that had fulfilled its contractual obligations to society and now wished to be worshipped horizontally.
She looked composed, as always, but the faint tiredness around her eyes told Phei that his hyper-efficient manager had reached the edge of her tolerance for the day. She had guided him through the interview, relayed Ashworth's angles, managed the fallout, absorbed too much stress and probably already drafted six contingency plans in her head while everyone else flirted, joked or emotionally collapsed in luxury vehicles.
If Emily did not sleep soon, she might begin managing people in their dreams, and nobody wanted that kind of administrative haunting.
