Scratch that; there weren't just one but four people who would probably benefit from Lulu's majestic presence right now.
One would be Duke Leander, who was on the far side of the lobby. He stood quietly beside the remnants of the conflict, his eyes looking at every alleged passenger.
After all, it wouldn't be the first time someone could possibly attempt to pass off as a hostage to escape punishment.
He hadn't spoken in several minutes, arms crossed, surveying the injured, the shaken, and the quiet hum of his son moving through the crowd.
He looked calm.
But it was the kind of calm that required tremendous effort.
His knuckles were white where they gripped his forearm.
Butler Gary approached him, offering a report. "Minor injuries, a few moderate cases, but no criticals. The Young Lord's aid came just in time."
Leander said nothing.
His eyes were fixed on his son, who knelt beside a sobbing grandmother as he helped her stand.
Leander didn't blink.
He hated this.
