His lower lip stiffened, and he tented his fingers, bouncing them just like Rosalyn’s leg. He was lying, and not with much skill. Just like Owen, he hesitated to meet her eye.

“So,” he said, puffing out an exasperated breath. “Why don’t you give me a reason to keep you on this team, Ms. Devar.”

She froze. “Sorry? I thought this was a debriefing . . .”

“It is. Well, it was. But to be frank, there’s no point in debriefing you if you’re going to be let go.”

Rosalyn flinched. Let go. Passive language. Cowardly language.

“Fired. Don’t look so shocked, we both know you’ve been struggling.”

Aggressive language. Somehow she didn’t like that either, even if it was more to the point.

“None of my performance reviews have been poor,” Rosalyn said slowly, feeling as if she had been dropped into a deep and icy pool. Her throat felt tight. Her leg bounced faster. “I know I have two absences but that’s well within my allowed time off.”

One, admittedly, was for a hangover. Sick leave. One lie hardly warranted all of this.

Girdy leaned forward, still tenting his fingers, and placed his wrists on the desk. Studying her, he blindly reached for a panel under the table, and a gently glowing holographic display like the one out in the lobby scrolled up from the smooth white surface of the desk. He flicked his eyes toward it and cleared his throat.

“Both of your cohorts on this assignment reported that you were drinking alcohol on the job. That you were . . .” He paused, squinting to find a direct quote. “Distracted, disoriented and unfocused. And this isn’t the first time, Ms. Devar. I was hoping you would turn it around on your own but you haven’t, so here we are. You’ve only been with us six months. That’s a lot of screwups for six months. This job is hard on everyone, but if you’re having trouble this early, then maybe it just isn’t for you.”

Rosalyn shook her head, then blinked down at her knees. Owen and Griz. She couldn’t believe them. Had she really been so bad? Maybe it was worse—she was worse—than just what she could see. But she had tried to be discreet, maybe less so once she was off the clock, but that was her right. Still . . . that word, discreet, bothered her. If she had to be that way, then maybe it really was as bad as Owen and Griz said.