Brennan did not even drink his.
Iris returned with four cups on a cardboard tray.
He took his.
Derek took another.
Cole tasted his and made a face.
“Too much sugar.”
“You asked for two.”
“I said one.”
“No, you didn’t.”
Cole looked at Brennan.
Brennan smiled.
“Interns make mistakes.”
Trent took no cup.
Iris returned to her desk.
Twenty minutes later, Brennan stopped beside her.
He tapped the monitor.
“I need twelve copies of this.”
Iris turned.
It was a thirty-page leasing report.
“Why?”
Brennan looked genuinely offended.
“You need an explanation to use a printer?”
“I’m asking whether they should be double-sided and whether anyone needs binding.”
Derek snorted.
Brennan stared.
“Single-sided.”
“Stapled.”
“Before one.”
“All right.”
Iris made twelve sets.
Three hundred sixty pages.
Collated.
Stapled.
She returned them to Brennan.
He accepted the stack.
Handed it to Derek.
Derek looked through the first two pages.
Then dropped everything into a recycling bin.
“Actually, we don’t need it.”
Cole laughed.
Brennan gave Iris a shrug.
“Priorities change.”
Iris’s face remained still.
Her hands did not.
They shook beneath the folder when she returned to her desk.
Claire had watched from behind a glass partition.
Iris glanced toward her.
Claire immediately looked down at her computer.
That hurt more than Iris expected.
At two o’clock, Brennan found her in the break room.
Derek and Cole were eating sushi from a restaurant nearby.
Trent leaned against the counter scrolling through his phone.
Iris entered to refill a water bottle.
Brennan pushed napkins and empty soy-sauce packets across the counter.
“Perfect.”
Iris stopped.
“Clean that.”
“The trash can is beside your elbow.”
“And the intern is beside the trash can.”
Derek laughed.
Iris tightened her grip on the bottle.
“What exactly do you think my job is?”
Brennan leaned back against the counter.
“To be useful.”
“I’m useful to the development group.”
“Are you?”
“Yes.”
Derek looked at her lanyard.
“You’ve been here five hours.”
Cole laughed.
Brennan reached into the takeout container and lifted a half-eaten piece of sushi with his chopsticks.
He dropped it onto a napkin.
“Here.”
Iris stared.
“Lunch.”
“No, thank you.”
“Come on.”
He smiled at his friends.
“Probably better than intern food.”
Trent finally looked up.
“That’s enough.”
The room changed.
Brennan turned.
“What?”
Trent shrugged.
“She said no.”
Brennan stared at him.
Then laughed.
“All right, Saint Trent.”
He gestured toward Iris.
“Go do spreadsheets.”
Iris walked out.
She heard Derek say:
“She’s got attitude.”
Brennan answered:
“They always do until somebody explains the hierarchy.”
Iris made it back to her desk.
Sat.
Placed both palms flat against the surface.
Breathed in slowly.
Ten seconds.
Then another ten.
The office moved around her as though nothing had happened.
Keyboard clicks.
Calls.
Printer sounds.
A man discussing cap rates near the windows.
Nobody asked whether she was all right.