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The grand staircase had claimed many things over the years, dignity, secrets, the occasional dead body but today, it claimed the Theerapanyakul Family’s collective sanity.
The heavy doors of the main hall had barely finished echoing their closing thud when the sound of the collision replaced it. It wasn’t a graceful slide or a tactical roll…it was the unmistakable, bone jarring smack of Porsche’s face meeting the polished marble at the bottom of the grand staircase.
When Porsche’s toe caught the edge of the one before the final step, time slowed down, The newest guards stationed along the main hallway had a front row seat to the slow motion action movie starring Khun Porsche. He hit the floor with a sound like a wet bag of cement.
For three seconds, the compound was silent enough to hear a shell casing drop.
Before the victim himself could even register the sting in his nose, the “Porsche Protection Protocol” (which was unofficial, yet highly aggressive) went into full effect.
Zen ran as he tackled three junior guards out of the way to get to Porsche. Within seconds, he was performing a field neurological exam that Porsche definitely didn't ask for. “Follow my finger! Khun Porsche, how many fingers? Tell me your name and your husband’s maiden name!”
Buzz appeared out of thin air, clutching a first-aid kit the size of a suitcase. Agitated and mildly annoyed with himself. Why had they stepped away from their charge? Why didn’t they proof-walk the steps before hand? Those were basic protocols. He should have known something like this would happen as soon as they stepped aside to arrange the guards for the meetings.
“Hia!” the sound echoed through the now busy hallway. Chay ,freshly back after his date with kim, had seen the entire thing in real time. He skidded to a halt next to a still on the floor Porsche and dropped to his knees. “Stay with me! Don't go into the light! Is it your brain? Is your brain okay?"
As soon as those word left the young Kittisawat’s mouth a sound so loud and rushed, which could only belong to a stampede, sounded through the compound. On one end burst out half a dozen medics along with a stretcher and IV bags. The young guards had rushed to the medic wing as soon as Porsche hit the ground, walking beside the doctors and surrounding Porsche proudly, patting themselves on the back on a job well done. “Porsche protection protocol” applied to the letter.
On the opposite end burst out Tankhun with Arm and Pol trailing behind him, “CLEAR THE AIRSPACE! OUT OF THE WAY! The precious queen of the compound has been cracked! This is what happens when we don't have a personal elevator for him!”
Khun rushed in, flamingo pink feathers fluttering around him, Glimpsing Porsche’s still on the floor body through the mess of guards and medics, He shouted,
“MOVE! Out of the way! You're crowding him, he needs oxygen! Someone get the oxygen tank! Why aren’t there more medics here? I will make everyone in this building watch my newest drama!” He was shoving guards aside, his usual dramatic flair turned into a frantic, protective shield over "his" Porsche.
The maids who usually stayed in the shadows were suddenly there with damp cloths and smelling salts. Porsche wasn't just the boss's partner, he was the one who asked about their families and shared drinks with them in the kitchen, The main tea-spiller on everyone and anyone. They couldn’t let him get hurt.
Pete had also somehow joined the mix, his plan of visiting Tankhun deviating to this riveting side quest involving his best friend.
“Porsche! Can you lift your head? If you can’t smell, just twitch twice for 'internal bleeding!”
All this as Porsche lay there, face down on the marble, listening to the boots of fifty guards and medics sprinting toward him and the sound of Tankhun crying about "brain splatters." The only mercy was that Kinn was out of the compound wrapped up in a meeting. He let out a long, muffled sigh against the cold stone.
“I am fine,” Porsche said, his voice vibrating against the floor.
"He’s hallucinating!" Pete yelled. “He thinks he’s fine! That’s a classic sign of a traumatic brain injury!”
Porsche finally pushed himself up on his elbows, looking entirely exhausted by the sheer volume of love currently screaming in his ears. He had a small red mark on his forehead and a look of deep, soul crushing exasperation.
“It was a trip,” Porsche deadpanned, looking at Buzz, who was currently trying to check Porsche's pupils with a high-intensity tactical flashlight. “I tripped. Like a human. On a stair.”
“It kind of seemed like a structural attack sir” A medic mentioned as he took note of Porsche’s vitals.
“The only thing structural was my ego,” Porsche snapped, trying to stand up, only to be pushed back down by six different hands. “Stop! Dr. Ila, put the neck brace away. Zen, I don't need an IV drip. Pete, if you call a helicopter for a bruised nose, I am moving back to the bar.”
The entire room froze. Struck by Khun Porsche trying to override the P.P.P. (Porsche Protection Protocol)
“He’s cranky," Tankhun whispered loudly from his place at the right side of the culprit stair. "That means the frontal lobe is agitated. Someone fetch the calming lavender mist and a priest!”
Porsche just put his head back down on the floor. It was quieter down there.