Chapter Text
Phayu knew something was wrong when Rain became quiet.
Not normal quiet.
Rain had different kinds of quiet, and Phayu knew most of them now.
Sleepy quiet, where Rain’s head slowly lost its war against gravity.
Hungry quiet, which was not actually quiet but more like dangerous silence before a complaint.
Guilty quiet, where Rain avoided eye contact and started saying things like “Hypothetically, P’Phayu…”
This was excited quiet.
The worst one.
Rain was sitting at the garage workbench with his laptop open, his portfolio folder spread around him, and a pencil tucked behind one ear even though he had not used a pencil in twenty minutes. His bandage was finally gone. The scar on his palm was still pink, a thin little line he kept pretending not to look at. His notebook was open to a page titled:
Future Concepts That Are Not Dangerous Unless People Make Them Dangerous
Phayu had seen the title.
He had not liked it.
Sky sat beside Rain with a cup of iced tea and the expression of someone waiting for nonsense to reveal its source.
Prapai stood behind Sky’s chair, reading a contract over his shoulder and occasionally offering comments like, “This clause is ugly,” which Sky kept answering with, “Use professional words.”
Saifah was replacing the old flickering bulb near the shutter because the cake night had made everyone realize the garage lighting had “emotional trauma,” according to Rain.
Phayu stood near the tool cabinet, wiping down a wrench that was already clean.
Rain had gone too quiet.
Phayu looked at him.
Rain looked at the garage entrance.
Then quickly looked back at his laptop.
Phayu stopped wiping.
“Rain.”
Rain’s shoulders went up.
Sky looked at him too.
Prapai looked amused. “Oh.”
Phayu turned. “What?”
Prapai lifted both hands. “I know nothing.”
Sky’s eyes narrowed. “Pai.”
“I know very little.”
Rain closed his laptop halfway.
Too late.
Phayu saw the screen.
A group chat.
One message from Thee.
I am nearby. This is unrelated to business.
Another message.
Mostly.
Another.
Please do not tell Phayu until I arrive, because he misunderstands folders.
Phayu stared.
Rain whispered, “In my defense—”
“No.”
“I didn’t invite him.”
“No.”
“He said unrelated to business.”
“Mostly,” Sky said.
Rain looked betrayed. “Sky.”
Sky sipped his drink. “I’m not helping you lie.”
Phayu put the wrench down.
Carefully.
Saifah, still on the ladder, looked over. “Why did you put the wrench down like that?”
Phayu looked at the entrance.
Outside, a familiar black car stopped near the garage.
No driver.
No assistant.
No dramatic convoy.
Just Thee, stepping out of the car with sunglasses, a pale linen shirt, and a slim folder tucked under one arm.
Phayu stared at the folder.
Thee removed his sunglasses.
Smiled.
“Good afternoon.”
Phayu walked to the shutter.
Rain stood up too fast.
Sky caught his sleeve. “No.”
Rain sat back down.
“But—”
“No.”
Prapai leaned closer to Sky. “Are we witnessing garage defense?”
“Yes.”
“Should I record?”
“No.”
“Emotionally?”
“Also no.”
Phayu reached the shutter just as Thee stepped over the threshold.
Then Phayu lowered the shutter by one-third.
Thee stopped.
His eyebrows lifted.
“Khun Phayu.”
“No.”
Thee looked at the shutter.
Then at Phayu.
“I have not said anything.”
“You have a folder.”
“It is not a campaign folder.”
Peach’s voice came from behind Thee. “It is absolutely a campaign folder.”
Everyone turned.
Peach got out of the passenger side carrying one iced coffee and the expression of a man who had been arguing for twenty minutes and lost only because Thee had driven.
Thee turned to him, wounded. “Peach.”
Peach walked closer. “Do not Peach me. You told me we were buying camera straps.”
“We did buy camera straps.”
“You bought one camera strap and then said, ‘Since we are near Phayu’s garage.’”
“We were near.”
“We were twenty minutes away.”
“In emotional distance, near.”
Phayu reached for the shutter switch.
Thee stepped forward. “Wait.”
The shutter lowered another six inches.
Rain made a strangled sound. “P’Phayu.”
Phayu did not look away from Thee. “No.”
Thee pressed one hand to his chest, folder trapped under his arm. “I come in peace.”
Saifah climbed down the ladder slowly. “That sounds like a person who brought problems.”
Prapai nodded. “It does.”
Thee pointed at Prapai. “You are not helping.”
“I’m enjoying.”
Sky looked at Peach. “Did you know?”
Peach took a sip of iced coffee. “I suspected when he wore linen.”
Rain whispered, “What does linen mean?”
Peach said, “A concept is coming.”
Phayu said, “No concept.”
Thee inhaled.
Everyone in the garage reacted at once.
Peach pointed at him. “No speech.”
Thee closed his mouth.
The shutter stayed halfway down between him and Phayu, which made the whole thing look less like a confrontation and more like a very expensive delivery being rejected.
Thee looked at Peach.
Peach looked back.
Thee looked at Rain.
Rain looked guilty.
Thee looked at Sky.
Sky looked unimpressed.
Thee looked at Prapai.
Prapai smiled. “I support your right to be rejected.”
Thee finally looked at Phayu again.
“It is a small idea.”
Phayu’s face did not move.
“For future consideration.”
“No.”
“Not now.”
“No.”
“Not rain.”
Phayu paused.
That was his mistake.
Thee saw it.
Peach saw it.
Everyone saw it.
Rain leaned forward. “Not rain?”
Sky put one hand over Rain’s laptop before he could open it again.
Phayu’s eyes narrowed. “What is it?”
Thee’s face lit up by half a degree.
Peach muttered, “Too late.”
Thee opened the folder.
Phayu immediately reached for the switch again.
Thee slammed the folder shut.
“No visuals,” he said quickly. “Only verbal.”
“That is worse,” Peach said.
Thee ignored him.
“It is not a campaign,” Thee said. “It is a minor brand visual study.”
Peach looked at Phayu. “Campaign.”
“Miniature,” Thee said.
“Campaign.”
“Internal.”
“Campaign.”
“Soft launch.”
Phayu hit the switch.
The shutter lowered another foot.
Rain gasped. “P’Phayu.”
Thee bent slightly to keep eye contact under the shutter.
“Khun Phayu, this is undignified.”
Phayu looked down at him. “Good.”
Saifah laughed so hard he had to sit on the workbench.
Peach rubbed his forehead.
Thee crouched, still holding the folder, now visible only from the chest up under the half-lowered shutter.
Prapai said, “This is the best meeting I have attended.”
Sky looked at him. “That says something terrible about your work life.”
“It does.”
Rain stood again, slowly this time, both hands visible.
“Can we at least hear it?”
Phayu looked at him.
Rain smiled.
It was the smile he used when he knew he was in danger but had chosen charm as a survival plan.
“No,” Phayu said.
Rain’s smile fell. “But what if it’s a good idea?”
“That is worse.”
Peach pointed at Rain with his iced coffee. “Do not encourage him.”
Rain pointed back. “You encouraged me once and now I have a portfolio.”
“Regretfully.”
“You don’t regret it.”
“No, but I regret this conversation.”
Thee, still crouched under the shutter, said, “Rain understands creative momentum.”
Phayu looked down at him.
Thee added quickly, “From outside the garage.”
Sky stood and walked to Rain, placing both hands on Rain’s shoulders.
“Rain,” he said.
“Yes?”
“Do you remember what happened last time?”
Rain looked offended. “I do. That is why this time we would have more forms.”
Phayu closed his eyes.
Prapai laughed into his hand.
Sky stared. “More forms?”
Rain lifted one finger. “And snacks.”
“No.”
“And no Nira.”
“That part is good. Still no.”
“And no rain.”
Thee raised the folder slightly. “Exactly.”
Phayu’s eyes opened.
“Then what?”
Thee’s face brightened again. Dangerous.
“Sunlight.”
The entire garage went silent.
Peach turned slowly toward Thee.
“No.”
Thee looked wounded. “You have not heard the concept.”
“I heard enough.”
“It is very gentle.”
“That is how it starts.”
“It involves chrome.”
Phayu said, “No.”
“And citrus.”
Peach closed his eyes.
Rain whispered, “Citrus could be interesting.”
Sky tightened his hands on Rain’s shoulders. “No.”
Prapai leaned forward. “Is there wind?”
Thee hesitated.
Peach opened his eyes.
Phayu noticed the hesitation.
Saifah noticed the hesitation.
Mok, who had appeared silently at some point near the office doorway with a tablet, looked up.
Thee said, “Possibly a very small controlled breeze.”
The shutter came down another six inches.
Thee ducked.
“Not a machine,” he said quickly.
Phayu stopped the shutter.
Thee looked relieved.
Then added, “A fan.”
The shutter came down again.
“Thee,” Peach said.
“I was being honest.”
“You are about to be honestly locked outside.”
Thee crouched lower, now mostly visible from the shoulders up. “Peach, sunlight through chrome and citrus is a completely different emotional vocabulary.”
Peach stared.
Thee winced. “I heard it after I said it.”
Mok typed something.
Peach looked at him. “Do not log emotional vocabulary.”
Mok said, “Too late.”
Rome appeared behind Mok with a plastic bag of drinks. “Why is Thee under the shutter?”
Mok said, “Natural consequence.”
Rome looked at Thee.
Then at Peach.
Then at the folder.
“Ah.”
Thee looked betrayed by how quickly everyone understood.
Rain slipped out from under Sky’s hands and walked toward the shutter.
Phayu said, “Rain.”
Rain stopped before crossing the line. Good. At least some things stayed learned.
He crouched to look at Thee under the shutter.
“Khun Thee.”
Thee looked deeply grateful. “Rain.”
“Is the citrus perfume nice?”
Thee’s eyes shone.
Peach groaned.
Phayu said, “Rain.”
Rain lifted both hands. “I only asked scent profile.”
Thee opened the folder one inch.
Phayu’s hand went to the switch.
The folder shut again.
“It is fresh,” Thee said. “Sharp. Bright. Like someone learning not to confuse warmth with exposure.”
Peach stared at him.
Rain blinked.
Sky sighed like the words had hit him despite his best efforts.
Prapai murmured, “That’s annoyingly good.”
Phayu looked at him.
Prapai lifted his hands. “As a sentence. Not as a garage proposal.”
Thee, encouraged by two percent too much oxygen, continued, “The visual direction would be morning light. Clean metal. No storm. No danger. No artificial rain. No anonymous account. No PR sabotage. Just—”
“No garage,” Phayu said.
Thee stopped.
Silence.
The funny kind at first.
Then not.
Rain looked at Phayu.
Phayu looked at the floor for half a second, jaw tight.
Peach saw it.
The garage had survived the campaign, yes.
Barely.
Everyone joked about it because joking made it small enough to fit in their mouths. But the garage still had a new lock on the side gate. The cable bridges stayed stacked near the shelf. Rain still had the scar. Peach still had one shoulder that clicked if he lifted a bag wrong. Phayu still looked at the shutter first when a vehicle slowed down outside.
No garage.
Not because Phayu hated beauty.
Because beauty had not been the only thing that came in last time.
Thee saw it too.
For once, he did not push.
He lowered the folder.
Still crouched.
Still ridiculous under the shutter.
But quiet.
“Understood,” Thee said.
Phayu looked at him.
Thee’s voice changed.
No speech. Just something small.
“I apologize. I should have asked before arriving with a folder.”
Peach looked at him.
Rain’s face softened.
Sky’s shoulders loosened.
Phayu did not answer immediately.
Then he said, “Yes.”
Thee nodded.
The shutter hummed.
Everyone watched as Phayu raised it again.
Not all the way.
Enough for Thee to stand properly without looking like a trapped salesman.
Thee rose slowly and dusted his trousers, dignity in pieces around his shoes.
Peach looked at him. “You okay?”
“My knees are learning humility.”
“Good.”
Thee looked at Phayu. “I will not ask to use the garage.”
Phayu nodded.
“Today,” Saifah muttered.
Thee opened his mouth.
Peach said, “Thee.”
Thee closed it.
Rain looked between them, then lifted one hand cautiously.
“What if the citrus campaign uses a studio but I do mood board consultation?”
Everyone turned.
Rain froze.
“I said what if.”
Sky looked at him. “You want to do it.”
Rain looked down. “Maybe.”
Phayu’s face shifted.
Not fear exactly.
Something close.
Rain saw it and went quieter.
“I don’t mean the garage,” he said. “I know. I’m not asking that.” He rubbed his scar with his thumb, then caught himself and stopped. “But I like the idea. Sunlight. Chrome. Citrus. I can think about reflection without water. Maybe. If Peach says it’s not stupid.”
Peach took a sip of iced coffee.
Rain stared at him.
Peach lowered the cup.
“It’s not stupid.”
Rain’s whole face opened.
Thee looked like someone had handed him a sunrise in a folder.
Peach pointed at him. “No.”
Thee froze.
“I said Rain can think about it,” Peach continued. “I did not say yes. I did not say campaign. I did not say garage. I did not say I am shooting it.”
Thee looked at Rain.
Rain looked at Thee.
Both of them looked too hopeful.
Peach’s headache arrived early.
Sky said, “Ground rules.”
Everyone looked at him.
He still had one hand near Rain, not holding, just ready to flick him if needed.
“If Rain wants to consult on a concept, he asks for scope. Fee. Timeline. Safety needs. Whether it affects school. Whether Phayu is okay with the schedule. Whether Peach is involved by choice, not emotional blackmail.”
Thee said, “I would never emotionally blackmail Peach.”
Peach looked at him.
Thee looked down. “Not anymore.”
Prapai smiled into his coffee.
Sky turned to Thee. “No surprise visits with folders.”
Thee nodded.
“To the garage,” Phayu added.
Thee nodded again.
“To my house,” Peach added.
Thee paused.
Peach lifted an eyebrow.
Thee nodded, wounded but obedient.
Rain lifted his hand. “Can there be snacks at concept meetings?”
Sky looked at him.
Rain lowered his hand. “Professional snacks.”
Prapai said, “I support professional snacks.”
Sky said, “You are all exhausting.”
Rome handed Sky a drink. “You knew that.”
Sky took it. “Yes.”
The folder was finally allowed inside.
Not opened.
Placed on the table like a dangerous animal under supervision.
Phayu remained standing near it.
Saifah leaned over, trying to read the title.
Thee quickly placed one hand over the cover.
Peach saw.
“What does it say?”
Thee looked away.
Peach stared.
Rain leaned in.
Thee sighed and removed his hand.
The folder title read:
ARSENI SUNLIGHT STUDY — NOT A CAMPAIGN, NOT A GARAGE REQUEST, PLEASE DO NOT LOCK THE DOOR
For one second, nobody breathed.
Then Rain burst out laughing.
Sky put his face in his hand.
Prapai actually bent over, one hand on his knee.
Saifah wheezed.
Rome laughed so hard he nearly dropped the drinks.
Even Mok smiled. Barely. But enough.
Phayu stared at the folder.
Then at Thee.
“You expected the door?”
“I am self-aware.”
Peach looked at him.
Thee straightened. “Occasionally.”
Phayu reached for the folder.
Thee let him.
Phayu opened it.
Just the first page.
No mood board explosion. No dramatic collage. No artificial weather proposal. Only a short concept summary, product notes, and three small reference photos of morning light on chrome surfaces.
Peach leaned in despite himself.
It was good.
Annoyingly.
Not ready. Not a campaign yet. But good.
Rain saw the photos and went very still in the way he did when a visual idea hooked under his ribs.
“Light on metal,” he murmured. “But warmer. Less wet. More… like it almost hurts to look at but doesn’t.”
Thee’s eyes lit.
Peach pointed at him without looking. “No speech.”
Thee whispered, “I was only breathing.”
“You breathed in approval.”
Rain touched the edge of the paper with one finger. “If you use chrome, don’t over-polish it. It’ll look fake. The garage worked because it wasn’t fake.”
Phayu’s expression softened at that, even though the word garage clearly still made him nervous in this context.
Rain continued, warming despite himself. “Studio chrome can look like a car commercial if you’re not careful. You need scratches. Dust maybe. Tiny things. Like when sunlight hits something used, not something displayed.”
Peach watched him.
The scar on Rain’s palm caught the light as he pointed.
The hand had healed. Not disappeared. He still held it a little carefully. He still flexed his fingers when he was thinking, like checking that they answered properly.
But he was pointing.
Planning.
Taking space.
Peach looked at Phayu.
Phayu was watching Rain too.
Not afraid enough to stop him.
Proud enough to suffer quietly.
Good.
Thee, visibly restraining his soul, said, “Would you consider consulting?”
Rain’s head snapped up.
“Me?”
“Yes.”
Rain looked around like there might be another Rain behind him.
Sky said, “He means you.”
Rain turned pink.
“I mean… maybe.”
Thee nodded. “Professionally. With a scope. Fee. Timeline. No surprise emotional folder.”
Sky said, “Good.”
Rain stared at Thee.
Then at Peach.
“P’Peach?”
Peach knew what he was asking.
Not permission exactly.
A steadier thing.
A check.
Peach took another sip of coffee.
Then said, “Ask for the brief. Don’t say yes today.”
Rain nodded very seriously. “Ask for brief. Don’t say yes today.”
Phayu looked relieved.
Thee looked less relieved, but trying.
Prapai said, “I can review the contract.”
Sky turned. “After Rain asks you.”
Prapai nodded. “After Rain asks me.”
Rain looked at him. “I will ask you.”
Prapai looked pleased. “Then I will review.”
Sky sighed, but not unhappily.
Phayu closed the folder.
“The garage is not available.”
Thee nodded. “Understood.”
“No equipment.”
“Understood.”
“No fans near cars.”
“Understood.”
“No citrus samples stored near tools.”
Thee paused.
Peach looked at him.
Thee said, “Understood.”
Phayu’s eyes narrowed. “You brought samples.”
Thee looked pained.
Rain gasped. “Citrus samples?”
Peach turned slowly.
Thee lifted one hand. “Tiny.”
Phayu looked at the car outside.
Thee said quickly, “They are sealed.”
Saifah moved toward the entrance. “I want to smell.”
Phayu said, “No.”
Rain stood. “Professionally, scent informs visual direction.”
Sky grabbed his sleeve. “Sit down.”
Rain sat, offended. “My career is being suppressed.”
Peach looked at Thee. “You brought perfume samples to the garage after saying unrelated to business.”
“They are not in the garage.”
“They are in the car.”
“Which is outside.”
Phayu pointed at the road. “Keep them there.”
Thee nodded solemnly. “The citrus remains exiled.”
Prapai laughed.
Rome leaned against Mok’s shoulder. “I missed this chaos.”
Mok looked at him. “It has been three days.”
“Exactly.”
The folder stayed on the table.
Closed.
Mostly.
Rain looked at it every fourteen seconds.
Phayu noticed every time.
Peach noticed Phayu noticing.
Thee pretended not to notice anyone noticing anything.
Badly.
Sky gave up and said, “Fine. Ten minutes.”
Rain lit up. “Really?”
“Ten minutes to discuss visual direction. No commitments. No dates. No garage. No machines. No one uses the word destiny.”
Thee opened his mouth.
Sky pointed at him.
Thee closed it.
“Ten minutes,” Sky repeated.
Prapai checked his watch. “Starting now.”
Rain grabbed the folder.
Phayu made a small pained sound.
Rain looked at him immediately.
“P’Phayu.”
Phayu looked at him.
“I’m just looking.”
“I know.”
“Not saying yes.”
“I know.”
“Not touching machines.”
“I know.”
Rain softened.
Then, in front of everyone, he took Phayu’s hand and placed it on the table beside the folder.
“You can be here while I look.”
Phayu’s face changed.
Not much.
Enough.
Thee looked away.
Peach saw that and decided to be kind by pretending he did not.
Rain opened the folder.
The ten-minute discussion became twenty-three minutes.
Of course.
No one admitted it.
Rain talked with his hands. Sky wrote down actual questions. Prapai added contract notes in the margin. Peach made three dry comments that improved the idea. Thee was allowed one sentence every five minutes and used two of them badly.
At minute twelve, he said, “The scent is the emotional memory of sunlight touching metal.”
Peach said, “Too much.”
At minute nineteen, he said, “Chrome is just a mirror that has learned restraint.”
Everyone stared.
Rain whispered, “That one is kind of good.”
Phayu muttered, “Unfortunately.”
Sky wrote it down under maybe useful, annoying source.
Thee saw and looked deeply proud.
Peach did not let him enjoy it for too long.
At minute twenty-three, Phayu closed the folder.
“Done.”
Rain groaned. “But—”
“Done.”
Sky looked at his notes. “Actually, that’s enough for first discussion.”
Rain pouted.
Phayu looked at him.
Rain sighed. “Fine.”
Then he turned to Thee, sitting up very straight.
“Khun Thee, please send the brief officially by email.”
Thee blinked.
Rain looked nervous but continued.
“With scope, fee, timeline, and no surprise garage location.”
Sky looked proud enough to hide behind his drink.
Prapai looked like he wanted to applaud.
Phayu’s hand tightened on Rain’s under the table.
Thee bowed his head slightly.
“Of course.”
Rain beamed.
Then ruined the professional moment by whispering, “I sounded so cool.”
Phayu said, “You did.”
Rain melted.
Peach looked at Thee.
Thee was staring at Rain with an expression Peach knew too well. The look of a dramatic CEO who had just discovered another person’s growth and wanted to turn it into a paragraph.
Peach shook his head once.
Thee nodded.
No paragraph.
Good.
Progress continued to be inconveniently attractive.
Then Sig arrived.
Nobody knew why.
He walked into the garage with a bag of snacks, took one look at the folder, the serious faces, Phayu’s hand on Rain’s, Thee standing near the door like a man recently forgiven but not fully trusted, and Peach looking tired.
Sig stopped.
“Oh no,” he said.
Rain looked up. “What?”
Sig pointed at Thee. “Did the CEO bring another weather?”
The garage erupted.
Rain wheezed.
Sky laughed into his hand.
Prapai bent forward again.
Saifah slapped the workbench.
Rome nearly dropped a drink.
Peach actually laughed.
Thee looked offended. “It is sunlight.”
Sig nodded gravely. “A daytime weather.”
Phayu reached for the shutter switch.
Thee turned fast. “Khun Phayu.”
Phayu pressed it.
The shutter began to lower.
Rain shouted, laughing, “P’Phayu, no!”
Thee stepped backward, folder clutched to his chest.
Peach did not stop it.
Nobody did.
The shutter lowered to half.
Then stopped.
Phayu looked at Thee through the gap.
“No campaigns in my garage.”
Thee straightened outside the line, trying for dignity while holding a folder titled please do not lock the door.
“Understood.”
Rain leaned under the shutter line without crossing it. “But email me the brief.”
Phayu looked at him.
Rain smiled sweetly.
“Professionally.”
Phayu sighed.
Thee’s smile came back.
“I will.”
Peach stood beside Thee, finishing the last of his iced coffee.
“You’re happy,” he said.
Thee looked at the garage. At Rain practically glowing. At Phayu pretending not to soften. At Sky already rewriting the notes because Rain’s handwriting had become useless. At Prapai watching Sky like the whole room had organized itself around him. At Mok and Rome sharing the snacks Sig brought even though no one had invited Sig. At Saifah laughing near the workbench.
Then Thee looked at Peach.
“Yes.”
Peach waited for the speech.
Thee did not make one.
He only shifted the folder under his arm and said, “I will send an email.”
Peach stared.
Thee’s smile turned smaller. “With scope.”
Peach nodded slowly.
“Good.”
“And fee.”
“Better.”
“And no garage.”
“Best.”
Thee looked toward the half-lowered shutter.
From inside, Rain shouted, “AND SNACKS.”
Sky shouted, “NO SNACKS IN THE BRIEF.”
Prapai shouted, “PROFESSIONAL SNACKS CAN BE A LINE ITEM.”
Phayu shouted, “NO.”
Sig shouted, “I HAVE SNACKS NOW.”
Saifah shouted, “WHO INVITED SIG?”
Mok shouted nothing, but Peach could see him writing something down.
Thee looked at Peach.
Peach sighed.
“The garage survived one campaign,” Thee said softly.
Peach looked at him. “Barely.”
Thee nodded.
“Barely,” he agreed.
The shutter hummed again.
This time, it rose.
Phayu stood inside with his arms crossed, face flat, eyes tired.
“Are you leaving?” he asked.
Thee looked at Peach.
Peach looked at Thee.
Then at the garage.
Then at Rain, who was already trying to steal one more look at the folder.
Then at Phayu, who was pretending this entire thing had not made him smile twice.
“No,” Peach said.
Phayu’s eyes narrowed.
Peach lifted his empty cup. “I need another coffee.”
Rain cheered.
Sky groaned.
Prapai offered to buy everyone drinks.
Phayu said no.
Saifah said yes.
Sig asked if sunlight perfume tasted like lemon.
Thee looked horrified.
Peach laughed again.
And Phayu, after staring at all of them like a man who had lost control of his own building and possibly his life, stepped aside.
“Ten minutes,” he said.
Everyone ignored that.
Of course.
The garage door stayed open.