Michele's legs were jittering. In uniform, no less, this was hardly the behavior befitting a soldier striving to maintain decorum.
Lotan, standing beside her, gave her foot a gentle nudge with his own. Michele's legs immediately stilled, her jittering subsiding as if an earthquake had ceased.
But after a moment, Michele shifted her restlessness to her arms, swinging them back and forth. Diego clicked his tongue, grabbing her arm to steady it. In response, she began fidgeting with her hands, unable to keep any part of herself still. Though her restlessness was noticeable, no one scolded her—they all understood why she was so tense.
Lotan, watching her tremble, asked casually, "Think you can do it?"
It was a subtle show of understanding, a suggestion that she could back out if she couldn't go through with it. He knew well just how harsh her orders were. Michele replied with a strained smile.
"Of course… I have to."
