“He’s talking to you now,” I said, keeping my voice level.
Brewster didn’t correct me this time.
“He’s talking around you,” I amended. “Which is not the same thing.”
I handed the phone back, slower than necessary. “That’s not commentary,” I continued. “That’s reinforcement.”
“Yes,” Brewster said. “For behavior he wants repeated.”
“I didn’t give him permission to grade my choices.”
“No,” he agreed. “You gave him silence.”
I crossed my arms, jaw tight. “Which was mine to give.”
“And still is,” he said. “But he’s acknowledging the structure, not the author.”
That landed, hot and unwelcome.
I exhaled through my nose, already reorganizing the frame in my head, already pushing back against the instinct to reclaim the channel immediately just to prove I could.
“He’s testing boundaries,” I said. “Seeing how many hands he can reach through without breaking the spell.”
“And you don’t like that,” Brewster observed.
“No,” I said flatly. “I don’t.”
Because letting him communicate with anyone but me—even indirectly—felt like relinquishing authorship. Like letting someone else annotate a draft I hadn’t finished writing yet. I didn’t share drafts or leads. Not with someone who wanted to usurp my authority.
Brewster didn’t argue or agree.
“That’s acknowledgment,” I continued, warming to the analysis. “He’s reinforcing the behavior he wants. Classic conditioning.”
“You think that’s the point?” Brewster asked. The measuring look in his eyes
“What else would it be?”
He studied me for a long moment, like he was deciding whether to interrupt a line of thought or let it run to its end.
“He didn’t send it to you,” he said finally.
I waved that off. “Of course not. He doesn’t want to be obvious. He’s still testing distance.”
“No,” Brewster said quietly. “He’s testing authority.”
I frowned. “Explain.”
“He spoke in the plural,” he said. “But he only addressed a single choice.”
I replayed the words in my head.You chose correctly.
I smiled, despite myself. “Then he’s acknowledging influence.”
Brewster’s gaze sharpened. “Or assuming alignment.”
That distinction slid past me at the time. It felt academic. Semantic.
“I didn’t respond,” I said. I also hadn’t changed my mind. “That’s still my move.”
