Damian checked his appearance in the mirror for a final time.

No wrinkles on his suit? Check.

Hair under control? Check.

And ' his cards were ' There! Check.

Damian flipped through his prompt cards, once again trying a last-minute attempt to impart the words to his memory, but at the same time, his brain had gone frustratingly blank, and suddenly the words on the cards in front of him could have been written in Atlantean for all he knew. Statements and statistics dripped through the sieve of his mind, and eventually he settled himself by thumbing through the papers, finding the motion as a way to focus his mind, and try to calm himself.

He turned to the mirror, and gave himself a final

final

once-over. It really was the final one, this time.