"Get lost! I'm not in the mood for anything right now. If you want to eat, go on your own." Warrick snapped, looking annoyed.

"I'm not going either," Percival refused flatly. "I'm on a health regimen these days—only tea, no alcohol."

"Fine. If you're going to wait, then keep waiting. I won't be sticking around." Huxley forced a smile and acted like he was about to leave.

But as he turned, he almost bumped into Boston, who was approaching from the other direction.

"Sorry, Sir Thatcher! I hope I didn't startle you."

Since he was surrounded by so many high-ranking officials, Boston was already on edge. He had momentarily spaced out and almost caused a mishap by running into Huxley, which left him flustered and a bit tongue-tied.

Unlike the other generals, Boston didn't come from an influential background or have any powerful connections. He had worked his way up from the bottom, and the last thing he wanted was to offend Huxley and risk losing everything he had fought so hard for.