Jax stares at me. "Get out."
"The sweetness of the fruit balances the acidity of the tomato sauce," I defend. "It is a refined flavor profile."
"It’s a crime," Jax says, shaking his head. "Something the Canadians have yet to pay for, but their time is coming… Fine. One abomination, coming up."
When the pizza arrives, the box is greasy and smells of regret and oregano. Jax dives in immediately, folding a slice in half and consuming it with efficient, terrifyingspeed.
I, however, retrieve a set of plastic cutlery from my desk drawer. I transfer a slice to a paper plate. I begin to cut.
"Stop," Jax says. He lowers his slice, looking horrified. "Just stop."
"What?" I ask, carefully severing a bite-sized piece of pepperoni.
"You’re performing an autopsy on a slice of Domino's," Jax says. "It’s pepperoni, Max, not a tumor. You don't need clear margins."
"I am avoiding grease transfer to my fingertips," I explain, stabbing the piece with my fork. "My keyboard cost three hundred dollars. I do not intend to lubricate the shift key with rendered pork fat."
"You’re sucking the soul out of the pizza," Jax argues. "You have to fold it. It’s the law. The grease is the point."
"I do not fold food," I say, chewing methodically. "I consume it with dignity."
Jax watches me eat another forkful. He looks like he’s witnessing a crime.
"You are the most high-maintenance human being I have ever met," Jax decides. "How do you even eat a burger? With a scalpel?"
"If one is available," I say deadpan. "Precision prevents mess."
Jax shakes his head and shoves another massive bite into his mouth. "You’re tragic, York. Truly tragic."
"And you," I say, watching a drop of sauce threaten to fall on his scrubs, "are a laundry hazard."
He catches the drop with his thumb just before it hits the fabric. He winks.
"Reflexes, Princess."
We finish eating—him in five minutes, mein twenty.
"Read the conclusion back to me," Jax says, wiping his mouth with a napkin.
I clear my throat."In conclusion, the proposed methodology offers a paradigm shift in cardiac trauma management, transforming the operative field from a static environment to a dynamic, responsive ecosystem."
Jax nods. "Sexy. Sterling is going to need a cold shower after reading that."
I hitSend.
The email whooshes away.
I sit back. I feel lighter. We didn't just cover our tracks; we actually designed something incredible.
"You know," I say, looking at Jax. "That... actually makes sense. The motion tracking. We could actually do it."
"Why do you think I suggested it?" Jax winks. "I’m not just a pretty face, Max."
"No," I agree softly. "You are not."
I look at the empty pizza box. I look at the blue tape line.
"Thank you," I say. "For the help."
