“Liam!” Robert calls out, the young man, probably only 17 years old, comes appears in the room. “Get Clarity some Advil,” he orders him, as if Liam is a butler, he must be newest. In the kitchen there is some rustling and clanking and Liam comes back with a bottle of pain killer and a glass of water. I nod my thanks and deftly pop the top and swallow two pills with a gulp of water. Two of the men begin whispering something funny, judging by the way they're laughing, and Robert tells them, “Männer, auf Englisch bitte. Und Gespräch darüber, was Sie zur Clarity auf Ihrer eigenen Zeit tun möchten.” I hear my name and panic, though there's nothing I can do.
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