Maruki froze, the words hitting him like a physical blow. His face drained of color, only to rapidly flush as embarrassment, anger, and sheer disbelief tangled into an unmanageable knot of emotions. For a moment, he simply stared at Drake, his mouth slightly open, as if trying to piece together a coherent response.

“I—I wasn’t…” he started weakly, his voice cracking. “I wasn’t calling you…” He trailed off, his words faltering.

Damn you, Phoenix.

He stopped himself with a frustrated huff, his hands twitching as if they couldn’t decide whether to gesture wildly or stay clenched into fists. His glasses slid down his nose, but he made no move to fix them.

For a few seconds, it seemed like he might say something cutting—or perhaps launch into another impassioned defense of his credentials—but then he slumped forward, his elbows hitting the table with a dull thud. He ran both hands through his hair, pulling at it slightly as he let out a long, wheezy sigh that sounded like it carried years of pent-up frustration.

He looked as though he wanted to disappear on the spot.

He exhaled heavily, his voice muffled by his palms. "Okay. Okay, I need to say something, and I want to be very honest about it."