Adam's adrenaline spiked, and the sweat on his spine felt suddenly cold.
He kept the towel in his hand because it gave him something to do with his fingers. He kept his posture loose because performers learned early that looking rattled only fed the vultures.
"Show's over," Adam said lightly, voice still rough from singing. "If you want an autograph, you're late."
The man's lips twitched as if Adam had said something amusing, but not enough to change his mood.
"I didn't come for an autograph."
His voice was low, controlled, carrying through the corridor without needing volume. One that was oddly similar to that of people rising from the debts of the rebellion.
"Then why are you here?" Adam asked, his breathing still raw and sweat falling down his temples.
"The emperor is sending his congratulations for the beginning of normality." The man said and extended an envelope.
