Tennyson's expression hardened immediately, his polite mask slipping into irritation. He turned to the officer with a falsely apologetic tone.
"Ms. Erisia, you shouldn't say things like that." He forced a laugh that sounded more like a grind of teeth. "I'm sorry for the disturbance, Officer. But Ms. Erisia Wrenford doesn't know what she's talking about, so please don't mind her hysterics. I had just begun interrogating the driver, and he started asking for things. Naturally, I rejected him. He became agitated, and unfortunately, that upset Ms. Erisia. Please, let me continue without interruptions."
The officer shifted uneasily, clearly unsure how much weight to give to Tennyson's words. He opened his mouth to respond—
But Erisia's voice broke over him, raw and jagged, every syllable dripping with anguish.
