Gemotions

The stale air was already making Thomas's impeccably pressed shirt cling to his back. He straightened, then shifted, as if trying to re-align his perfectly centered internal organs. Across from him, Sarah, the intern, was hyperventilating. How utterly inefficient.

"Perhaps," he began, his voice laced with the faintest hint of amusement, "we should try to remain… composed." He unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, a concession to the heat, but managed to keep his posture perfect.

He glanced at his watch again, just to confirm the time. It was important to him. He'd be happy to show her the calm professionalism he was capable of, once they got out.