Well, everyone's finally looking at you. You wish it could be in better circumstances, something less dramatic then the sudden disaster area the office has become. You know you can deal, however. Others' blood is on your front and people are already dead, but you know what to do. You thought you'd gotten away from this kind of responsibility, but you remember, the old instincts are there. Keep everyone's attention on you, keep them focused on a goal, distract them from the present. Don't so much as stutter, don't contradict yourself, they'll lose it if you do. Your heart is beating faster than it ever has, not sure if that’s the lack of oxygen or adrenaline rushing through old channels. You’re already speaking, directing, organizing. Then the rubble shifts and people scream. There’s more blood on your front but now it’s your own. You look down, you look up. You smile reassuringly, you open your mouth to say something, hopefully inspiring, but you only manage to cough up blood. Everyone’s still looking at you. Trigger.