“Conor Delaney,” said the man, “take your finger off the button.”
And Conor almost did it. Without thinking, his finger rose a fraction before the weight of his obligation forced it back down again.
Obligation? What obligation? What the hell was going on?
“How did you do that?” he asked the man. “How did you make me do that?”
The man made a sound, like a dissatisfied grunt, and it was the girl who spoke. “How did you disobey? Did you take a name?”