“Oh, certainly, sir. Would you like me to accompany you?”
“That won’t be necessary, Lieutenant, but thank you for the offer.”
“I—s-sir,” he stammers. “Of course, it’s m-my pleasure, sir, to assist you—”
Good God, I have taken leave of my senses. I never thank Delalieu. I’ve likely given the poor man a heart attack.
“I will be ready to go in ten minutes.” I cut him off. He stutters to a stop. Then, “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
I’m pressing my fist to my mouth as the call disconnects.