Eleanor marched over, her heels clicking aggressively against the stone tiles. She glared down at the seated man before turning her furious gaze on Toby.
"Get back to work right now," Eleanor commanded. "Assistance services are strictly reserved for ticketed priority-class passengers who pre-booked with ground dispatch. You are paid to clean floors, not play paramedic."
Toby placed a protective hand on the wheelchair handle, standing tall and meeting her glare without blinking.
"I'm staying with him until medical arrives."
Eleanor sneered, pointing an accusing finger toward the exit doors.
"Then you're done here. Surrender your badge and get off my concourse."
Toby gave a calm, quiet nod, unbothered by the threat as he reached into his vest to unclip his employee ID.
Behind Eleanor, the frail, wheezing elder slowly leaned back into the wheelchair. The trembling in his hands ceased. His hunched posture straightened into unmistakable, commanding dignity, and his faded blue eyes sharpened into steel.