“Ronan,” said Declan. The word was loaded with additional meaning: I see you’ve only just come out of school and already your uniform looks like hell; nothing is shocking here. He gestured to the Volvo. “Join me in my office.”
Ronan did not want to join him in his office. Ronan wanted to stop feeling like he had drunk battery acid.
“What do you need with Ronan?” Gansey asked. His “Ronan” was loaded with additional meaning, too: Was this prearranged and tell me what is happening and do you need me to intervene?
“Just a little family chat,” Declan said.
Ronan looked at Gansey entreatingly.
“Is it a family chat that could happen on the way to Fox Way?” Gansey asked, all polite power. “Because he and I were just headed over there.”
Ordinarily, Declan would have stepped off at the slightest pressure from Gansey, but he said, “Oh, I can drop him off there after we’re done. Just a few minutes.”
“Ronan!” Matthew reached his hand out the window towards Ronan. His ebullient “Ronan” was another version of please.
Trapped.
“Miseria fortes viros, Ronan,” Adam said.
When he said “Ronan,” it meant: Ronan.”