I don’t turn around.
“I’m thinking.”
“That’s usually when things get dangerous.”
“Only for people who ignore strategy.”
“Wow,” he says. “That felt personal.”
I finally glance over my shoulder.
He’s leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, looking annoyingly relaxed for someone who just spent an hour climbing a vertical obstacle tower during training drills.
“You’ve been watching the rankings all morning,” he says.
“I’m analyzing the field.”
“You’re obsessing.”
“I’m preparing.”
He shrugs.
“Same difference.”
I turn back toward the board.
The names shift again as new statistics load beneath them.
Team performance ratings.
Audience approval metrics.
Challenge success rates.
We’re near the top in almost every category.
Which should feel reassuring.
Instead it feels like standing closer to the edge of a cliff.
“Top twelve,” Bron murmurs beside me.
“Yes.”
“Getting real.”
“It’s been real the entire time.”
“Sure,” he says lightly. “But now it’s dramatic.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose.
“You are incapable of taking anything seriously for more than thirty seconds.”
“That’s not true,” he says. “I take tacos very seriously.”
I sigh.
