“Mutual benefit,” he says.
“That’s vague,” I reply.
“It’s flexible,” he corrects.
“It’s evasive,” I say.
One of his attendants shifts slightly, the movement small but sharp enough to register.
“You’re not in a position to negotiate,” the Baronet says.
I tilt my head slightly. “Neither are you,” I reply.
That lands harder than expected, the shift visible in the way his posture tightens.
“You’re here because you need time,” I continue. “Not because you have leverage.”
“That’s an assumption,” he says.
“It’s a pattern,” I reply.
He leans back slightly, reassessing.
“And what pattern is that,” he asks.
“You haven’t defaulted publicly,” I say. “You’ve delayed privately, which means you’re protecting something.”
His expression flickers, just enough to confirm it.
“There’s nothing to protect,” he says.
“Then you would have defaulted openly,” I reply.
Silence stretches, but it isn’t empty, and I can feel the shift as he recalculates.
“What do you want,” he asks.
“He already told you,” I say, nodding slightly toward Tyrok. “Payment.”
“Not immediately,” the Baronet says.
“Immediately,” I reply.
“That’s not possible.”
“Then define possible,” I say.
He hesitates, and that hesitation matters more than anything he’s said so far.
“Terms,” he says.
“Offer them,” I reply.
He does, outlining a structure that sounds reasonable on the surface, but every part of it leans on the assumption that Tyrok will accept delay as leverage.
When he finishes, I let the silence sit long enough for him to believe it might work.
“No,” I say.
