I glance at the piece again, reassessing. "That's apt."
She catches my tone. "You think I'm projecting?"
"I think you're observant."
She holds my gaze for a beat longer than necessary, then moves on to the next piece.
I notice other couples now.
Too composed. Too aligned. Familiar patterns of restraint, proximity, discretion.
These are other ERS couples.
I recognize the tells—the way they navigate public space without touching, the careful orchestration of attention, the measured conversations that never quite become personal.
It unsettles me.
We're not unique. We're not an anomaly. We're part of a system—one I chose deliberately.
And yet, watching Lindsay tilt her head at a sculpture, hoodie glittering under curated lighting, I know she doesn't belong to any system that would try to sand her down.
She belongs as she is.
The thought catches me off guard—not the observation itself, but the certainty behind it.
She excuses herself to the restroom, leaving me in conversation with someone I vaguely know.
The exchange is automatic. Pleasantries. Business adjacency. Nothing that requires full engagement.
My attention, however, isn't fully engaged.
I track Lindsay's movement across the floor without turning my head. Old instinct. Security training from years of high-profile events. Know where your vulnerabilities are at all times.
Then I notice the problem before Lindsay does.
Someone standing too close behind her as she steps away from the restroom corridor, attention fixed on the glittering distraction at her side instead of her face.
His hand moves, casual, practiced.
This isn't curiosity.
It's intent.
I'm already crossing the floor.
By the time I reach them, his fingers are closing around the strap of her bag.
Lindsay turns at the movement, confusion flashing across her face just as I step between them.
I don't speak at first. I don't need to.
I place my body squarely in his space, forcing him to stop, forcing him to look at me.
"Let go," I say quietly.
He scoffs—an error. He tries to pivot, to slip past, tugging the strap hard enough that Lindsay stumbles forward.
I react without thinking. Training takes over.
