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Main entrance: clear.

Secondary egress: clear after the road case moved.

North corridor: thirty-eight inches at the narrowest point, which was technically compliant for the temporary configuration and practically irritating.

South corridor: forty-four.

Stage stairs: secured.

Accessible ramp: correct pitch, rails tight, landing clear.

Power cables: ramped or dressed overhead.

Fire extinguishers: visible.

Exit signs: visible from the occupied floor.

Emergency lighting: tested by facilities at 5:15, documentation received at 5:32, personally confirmed at 6:21 because receiving a document was not the same as standing beneath the light while it came on.

The catering captain intercepted me near the kitchen access carrying two coffees and the expression of a person prepared to use one as leverage.

“You need this.”

“I have coffee.”

“That was three hours ago.”

I accepted the cup because refusing it would take longer. “Thank you.”

“And food.”

“I’ll eat after the first table drop.”

“You said that before the truss went up.”

“That was a different first.”

She stared at me.

I drank enough coffee to demonstrate good faith. It was hot, black, and powerful enough to remove paint.

“See?” I said. “Thriving.”

“You look terrible.”

“That’s because you’re standing under work lights. Nobody survives work lights.”

“You’re shaking.”

I looked at the coffee. The surface held still.

“Objectively false.”

“Priya.”

“I’m eating after the first table drop.”

She knew me well enough to hear the period. She handed me the second cup anyway.