Rick stood up abruptly, reached out to grab the back of his chair before it fell over and hammered it back into place.
"What the hell's the point in all this, Danes? All of us reliving distressing stories. For what? For fucking what, all this soul searching?"
"Aah, yes," Harry Danes hardly moved and spoke as if to himself rather than to Rick. "Soul searching . An appropriate term."
Rick stomped across the room.
And it was almost as if Harry Danes knew she was thinking of a toddler's tantrum as he caught her eye and smiled back.