From the moment Edmund's hand shot forward and fisted itself into Clyde's collar, the atmosphere in the waiting room shattered.
It happened so fast that for a second no one reacted. The sharp rustle of fabric, the scrape of shoes against the polished hospital floor, Edmund's harsh words, those sounds cut through the low mechanical hum of the air conditioning. Clyde did not move. His back remained straight, his expression cold and steady, but the tightening of Edmund's knuckles against the dark fabric of his coat was impossible to ignore.
The nurse at the reception desk had already sensed something brewing. She had been watching the group ever since the raised voices first echoed down the corridor and someone had been punched. She had turned a blind eye to it as they looked like people with influence. But the second Edmund grabbed Clyde, she pressed the emergency call button beneath her desk.
