Ethan stood up. Not fast, not aggressive. He just stood. Which meant Clare slid off his lap and found her footing. And now he was at full height.
And Daniel was close enough that this required a decision from both of them about what happened next. Ethan was 2 in taller than Daniel. He hadn't thought about that until this moment. And he wasn't thinking about it as a threat. He wasn't capable of thinking about it as a threat because he was not this kind of man.
And four years of quiet grief hadn't changed that, but he was standing and he was present in a way he hadn't been all night, in a way he might not have been in years. And he said, "You're going to want to be careful with the next thing you say. Not a threat, a fact." Delivered in the same tone he used to tell a contractor that a structural load calculation was wrong. This is the reality of the situation.
Take it or leave it. Daniel looked at him for a long moment. For the first time, something behind his eyes shifted. Not respect exactly, but recognition. The recognition of a man who has spent a lot of time in rooms taking up space and has just encountered someone who isn't going to yield it.
Fine, Daniel said. He took a step back, just one, but it was one step, and everyone at the table saw it. I'll leave you to it. He looked at Clare one last time. Call me when this gets complicated.
It won't, she said. Everything does. Goodbye, Daniel. He left. Not running.
Daniel Ross was not the kind of man who ran, but he turned and he crossed the bar and he was gone through the crowd and the air at that table changed in the way air changes when a pressure system lifts. Ethan was still standing. His hands were not shaking. He noticed this with a faint sense of surprise because on the inside something was shaking, not fear. Not anger exactly, but the specific tremor of having said a true thing out loud in a way you can't take back.
He sat back down. Marcus exhaled like he'd been holding it for the full duration. "Well," he said. "Okay, then I need a drink," Diane said to no one in particular. Clare sat down on the empty stool beside Ethan, not on his lap beside him, close enough that her arm was against his arm.
Close enough that it was deliberate without being a statement. She wrapped both hands around her glass and looked at the surface of the table. "You didn't have to do that," she said. "I know. He was trying to get under your skin.
He got there," Ethan said. Didn't mean I had to let him stay. She was quiet for a moment. Then she said low enough that it was just the two of them. How much of what he said landed?