Probably as Garamond expected, Calibri slightly bristled, back straightening as he slid off his goggles with a painfully professional sniff. He stood up and shrugged on the big, oversized coat he had left on the back of his chair. Watching him put it on was like watching a child try on new year's clothing that he hadn't quite grown into yet. The sleeves engulfed his arms, and the fabric fell over his frame like a giant shroud, making a light bell-like chorus of sound as the vials of Whatever It Was inside its numerous pockets clinked together. "I wasn't drunk. I remember what happened. I was just tired that night. Alcohol simply makes me drowsy."

The protest was more protocol than not - it wasn't as if Calibri was going to turn this opportunity down. Garamond had him pinned - he really had been trying to make enough room in his schedule to attend the convention. He could almost consider this an order. That gave him the perfect excuse. The boss had ordered it.