“It never was.”
The tension between us tightens into something more focused, less about pushing and more about moving forward.
“We’re past observation,” she says.
“Yeah,” I agree. “We are.”
“And if we push further,” she continues, “there’s no walking it back.”
“I’m not planning to.”
She studies me for a long moment, then nods once.
“Alright,” she says. “We go deeper.”
I feel the shift when she says it.
Commitment.
“How?” I ask.
“We map the overlap points,” she says. “Your restricted zones, my blind spots. We find where they intersect.”
“And then?”
“And then we stop guessing.”
I let a faint grin pull at my mouth.
“That’s more like it.”
“This isn’t a game,” she snaps.
“I know.”
“Good.”
She steps back, but her focus doesn’t waver.
“We move carefully,” she says. “No improvising.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“You’re talking to me.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
She holds my gaze for another moment, then nods again.
“Next rotation,” she says. “We start mapping.”
“I’ll be ready.”
“I know you will.”
That lands differently than it should.
