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In the subtle pressure of being observed.
Judged.
Measured.
“That will make her pull back,” the man says.
Sentinel’s eyes darken slightly.
“No.”
A quiet correction.
“It will make her question when to move closer.”
A beat.
“And when she hesitates—”
That’s the opening.
The smallest fracture.
The one no one else sees.
“And Carter?” the man asks.
Sentinel’s gaze shifts slightly.
Thoughtful.
“He’ll feel it,” he says.
“Immediately.”
A pause.
“And he’ll try to compensate.”
The man nods slowly. “Which keeps them aligned.”
Sentinel’s expression sharpens.
“For now.”
A step closer.
Voice lower now.
More precise.
“Because eventually…”
He lets the silence stretch.
Just long enough.
“…proximity becomes pressure.”
