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They both look at me, and I fold my hands in my lap.

“I am managing it.”

That makes Maren laugh. Silas flips back to the first page.

“It runs in this building.”

I look at him.

“In the arena.”

“Yes.”

“Same entrance.”

“Yes.”

“Same badge.”

“Yes.”

I look at Maren. She does not help me. This time I am less grateful for it.

“That is the exact problem I just described.”

“I heard you. You get your own room down the hall, your own schedule, your own records. Nobody gets a list of who walked through your door.”

“The door is still here.”

“Yes.”

Silas waits, and so does Maren.

“All right.”

Maren writes it down.

“You’re not hired.”

“I understand.”

“I’m sending this to legal. You and Maren build the actual protocol. The ugly version. Who answers at six in the morning. What happens on the road. What happens when you two disagree.”

“I have notes on that.”

“I’m shocked.”

“Five tabs,” Maren says.

“If your work authorization clears, we look at a pilot before development camp.”

“I can work with that.”

Silas slides the folder back toward me, then stops with two fingers still on it.

“One more thing.”

“Yes?”