Page 136 of Chameleon Killer

I leaned toward the screen. “That’s the best offer you’re getting.”

Several seconds passed before letters appeared.

Agreed.

I smiled. “I get the first question.”

Why?

“Because I proposed the rules.”

That does not logically follow.

“It does in journalism.”

Convenient profession.

“You invited a reporter.”

True.

I reached for the pen lying beside the notebook, twirled it between my fingers, then decided against writing anything yet.

“What do I call you?”

You already named me.

“You just spent half an hour explaining why that name belongs to me, not you.”

I corrected your assumption.

“So correct this one too. What do you call yourself?”

My name.

My lips twitched. “Which is?”

No.

I stared at the screen. “You know, for someone who just agreed to reciprocity, you’re off to a spectacular start.”

I answered.

“You refused.”

Correct.

“And I’m drawing conclusions.”

Expected.

I pointed the pen toward the monitor. “You enjoy irritating me.”

That is another question.

“No, that was an observation.” I elongated the last word to show that he wasn’t the only one who could pick on the other’s vocabulary.

Incomplete.