“But you’re not a Solve Specialist anymore,” said Fitzy. “How was being in the game in real time?”
Something in his demeanor changed, and it took Carter a moment to realize he’d started reading off the script running across a blue screen—canned dialogue for a typical post-round interview.
“It was . . . horrifying, frankly. I felt like I’d never solved a puzzle in my life.”
“Then your team entered the laboratory and you met your team-mates face-to-face. What was going through your head in that moment?”
Carter thought back. “Sierra Angelos,” she said simply. “Over and over.That’s Sierra Angelos.”
“Something tells me your fans might be crying foul,” said Fitzy. “I mean, none of the other teams have quite so much”—he shot a mischievous look at the camera—“baggage.”
Carter hadn’t thought of that before, but he was right. It was sort of unfair.
“What about your other teammates? Beck and Adi?”
“We’ve hardly had a chance to talk. But Beck seems great. He solved that last puzzle so fast.”
“True, though some might call that overly impulsive. Shouldn’t he have communicated with his team?”
Carter bit the inside of her cheek. “Maybe,” she said slowly, “but Adi and I were pretty shell-shocked. I appreciate that Beck listened to his instincts. It paid off.”
“It certainly did. What about Adi?”
If this was a video for her channel, her avatar would be staring straight into the camera, unimpressed. Adi had been uncommunicative, irritable, and wasted way too much time on that Dmitri Mendeleev thing. And in the stairwell, he’d been downright dismissive of Beck’s concerns.
But Carter wasn’t going to say any of that, no matter how much the producers wanted her to spill the tea. Instead, she shrugged. “I’m looking forward to getting to know him better.”
“How diplomatic.” Fitzy’s voice dropped conspiratorially, like they weren’t mic’d up and being filmed from three different angles. “Believe me, not everyone would be so generous. But if anyone can handle this unlikely group of teammates, I think it’s you, Carter.”
She blushed to the red roots of her hair. “Please. I was anything but impressive today.”
“Something tells me you’re just getting warmed up.”
“And cut!” yelled the director.
Carter slumped. She wasn’t sure she’d breathed at all during that interview.
“Whew,” said Fitzy, taking off his mic. “How are you holding up? Really?”
It was thereallythat caught her attention. Carter looked at him, then the cameras. The little recording lights were off.
“Honestly?” she said, ripping off the faux glasses. “This has been the most stressful day of my life.”
“They sure dumped you in the middle of it, hey? I felt like a snake talking to you before the round, knowing what Ranielle had planned.”
She gave a wry smile. “I figured you relished the drama.”
“Me? Nah, mate. I jumped at the chance to be on this show because it was supposed to be different. Getting to see Louis create masterpieces, watching people barely my age unpick the clues . . . It’s the best fun. Even if I don’t understand half of it.”
Someone behind the lights gave them the go-ahead to leave. Fitzy lifted a hand in acknowledgment and gestured for Carter to follow him off the stage.
“I’ll take her back,” he said to the intern hurrying toward them.
Carter was flattered, but— “You don’t have to. Surely you have better things to do.”
“Than talk to my favorite Solve Specialist?” Fitzy said. “Hard disagree.”
She ducked her head. “You’re much nicer than everyone else here.”
