Amy looked down at the application.
“You discussed this with Rose?”
“The structure. Not your answer.”
“She objected.”
It was not a question.
“She objected to the fraud. She agreed the transfer was the minimum responsible condition.”
Amy nodded as though this supported her position. I pulled the application printout from my jacket. Her attention snapped to it.
“You printed it.”
“Blake printed it.”
“You brought it.”
“That is how proposals work.”
She took the pages. Her eyes moved across the rules. I waited.
“This requires a relationship history and certification that we are romantic partners,” she said. “False eligibility information means disqualification, lost prizes, and sponsor review.”
“I read it.”
“So we would knowingly sign while ineligible.”
“Yes.”
She turned the page. “Photographs. Social-media content. You have twelve thousand followers.”
“Classes and local fitness.”
“That makes the deception significantly more public.”
“Or more convincing.”
She gave me a look. I spread my hands.
“Just information.”
“What is the deadline?”
“Friday, May thirtieth, at five.”
“It is Saturday, May twenty-fourth.”
“Exactly. Six days for your spreadsheet.”
“Why are you asking now?”
“Because you need time to construct a spreadsheet.”
She looked back at the application. I stayed quiet. Amy needed space to analyze. I had learned that pushing while she thought made her dig deeper into resistance. After two minutes, she set the pages down.
“No.”
