Page 134 of Chameleon Killer

I hated admitting to the next part.

“My assumption—you’re the man I call the Auditor.”

The cursor blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Better.

I hated how absurdly satisfying that single word was.

Chapter

Seventeen

MALLORY

Better.

I stared at the word until it began to annoy me all over again. The fact that his approval had pleased me at all was worse.

I pushed away from the desk and stood, more because I needed to move than because I intended to leave. Sitting there while an anonymous man graded my reasoning had started to feel suspiciously like detention.

I was far too old to play these kinds of games. “We need to establish something.”

The word vanished.

Go on.

“I didn’t come here to take an exam.”

You came for answers.

“Exactly.” I paced toward the far side of the room, then circled back toward the desk. “Which means this doesn’t work if you’re the only one asking questions and deciding whether mine deserve answers.”

Nothing appeared.

I stopped beside the chair. “You wanted a conversation.”

Yes.

“Conversations require reciprocity.”

Do they?

I sighed. “Good ones do.”

Define reciprocity.

“Oh, absolutely not.”

The cursor blinked.

I pointed at the monitor. “I am not spending the rest of the night defining words for you. The internet has a host of dictionaries. Go look it up if you want that.”

Why not?