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“Your asset made contact,” the man says.
“Yes.”
“It wasn’t enough.”
“No.”
A pause.
“Then what do you want him to do?”
Sentinel studies the file for a moment.
Then—
“Nothing obvious,” he says.
“Nothing direct.”
A beat.
“Just… proximity.”
The man’s brow furrows. “I don’t understand.”
Sentinel looks up.
Patient.
Precise.
“He doesn’t correct her again,” he explains. “He doesn’t speak unless spoken to.”
A slight tilt of his head.
“He just stays close.”
The realization hits.
Slow.
Unsettling.
“You want her to feel it without being able to point to it,” the man says.
Sentinel inclines his head slightly.
“Yes.”
Because that’s where it lives.
Not in words.
Not in actions.
In awareness.
In tension.
