Finn had barely sat down when the door opened without a knock.
His room was too neat, the way it always was, nothing on the floor and nothing on the walls, and he had not had time to do anything in it but sit since the press conference.
He had three Floor 20 seats to think about, his name on one of them, and a head full of nothing useful.
Marcus was standing in the doorway with his coat still on.
He did not look like a guild master. His face was tight, and the first thing out of him came fast and hard.
"Why would you accept?"
Finn did not get up.
He looked at his father, and his hands stayed flat on his knees.
"You knocked on the wrong door," Finn said. "I'm not Emerald Spire."
---
"Floor 20 ate a team," Marcus said. "Mine. Six people, gone, no survivor, no report, no cause. We don't know what's in there. Nobody does."
He took a step into the room. "And you want to walk through that gate because the Bureau handed your little team three seats?"
"My team."
