The Waiting Room was quiet in the way it always was after a broadcast cut, and it took a minute every time for James's ears to stop expecting the chat.
Nobody moved much.
Finn sat on the floor with his forearms on his knees and his head hanging between them. Cillian lay flat on his back a few metres away with one arm over his eyes, breathing through his mouth like a man who had decided dignity was for other people. Ronan had his shield face down across his thighs and was working at a buckle on the strap that did not need working at, pulling the tongue out and threading it back through, over and over, because his hands still wanted a job.
Maeve was sitting cross-legged with her panel open, scrolling the clear notifications with one finger.
James stood. He did not know why he was the one standing, but his legs had not got the message yet that it was over.
