The crumpled piece of paper flipped across a quarter of the room.
The old man flinched, raising his hand to shield his face as he realized the paper was heading straight for him.
The paper struck the back of his hand, bounced once off the table in front of him, then fell quietly onto his lap.
Had he not stopped talking,
had he not raised his hand,
the paper would have gone straight into his mouth.
For a brief moment, the room was silent.
The old man's face turned red.
He had just been insulted.
No — worse.
He had been humiliated.
He opened his mouth, ready to shout, ready to accuse them of assault, ready to turn this into a formal incident—
"Since Mr. Everworth is so concerned about the meeting not starting on time," a calm voice said, cutting cleanly through the room, "perhaps we should begin with a topic to pass the time while we wait for the remaining guests to arrive."
Grace Piao spoke as if nothing had happened.
As if a piece of paper had not just been thrown across the room.
As if the old man had not just been silenced before he could even speak.
"And since this delay is technically our responsibility," Grace continued, her tone calm and perfectly polite, "it would be improper for us to leave our guests without entertainment."
She gestured lightly toward his lap.
"I have prepared two possible topics. The first is the document currently in your possession."