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Her mouth tightened. “And then?”

“They will send someone.”

“For you.”

“Yes.”

She looked at the screen. Then back at me. “For us.”

I hesitated. Then nodded. “Yes.”

She released a slow breath and stared at the routing markers stacked across the display.

I expected fear. There was some.

Her thumb pressed hard into her palm once. But underneath it was something steadier.

Resolve.

“Then we find out first.”

She gestured toward the terminal.

“You notice who’s coming.”

A smile almost reached my mouth. Almost. “And you?”

“I notice when the numbers are lying.”

That should not have affected me. It did.

For the next hour, the work developed a rhythm neither of us acknowledged.

I traced routing layers while Talia compared timestamps, and somewhere along the way we stopped having to ask for what we needed. When I found an overwritten authorization path, she already had the corresponding Review record open. When she called out a timestamp, I turned the correct routing log toward her before she reached for it.

The first time it happened, she glanced at me.

The third time, neither of us reacted.

Three entries later, I needed the original Review authorization.

She slid it into my hand before I spoke.

I paused.

Her eyes remained on her screen.

“So now you’re staring.”

“I am observing.”

Her mouth curved. “That’s my line.”

“It is accurate.”

She went back to work, but her shoulders dropped slightly.

A few minutes later, she rubbed the side of her neck.