Controlled.
Always controlled.
“Keller.”
He stiffens slightly, then turns. “Sir.”
“You made a comment earlier.”
His brow furrows just enough. “I—was just trying to—”
“I know what you were trying to do,” I say.
My voice isn’t raised.
Doesn’t need to be.
The room shifts anyway.
People feel it.
They always do.
“That kind of comment?” I continue. “You don’t make it again.”
He nods quickly. “Yes, sir. I didn’t mean—”
“I don’t care what you meant.”
A beat.
“I care what it does.”
That lands.
He swallows slightly.
Understands enough to be careful now.
Good.
“Understood,” he says.
I hold his gaze for a second longer.
Long enough to make sure it sticks.
Then I step back.
Not escalating.
Not drawing more attention.
Handled.
For now.
I move backto the table.
