“Reallocate,” Verr says finally.
“Yes, sir.”
“And correct the cycle.”
“It will be done.”
Skot moves immediately, stepping away, already issuing quiet instructions to a nearby technician, his tone low and controlled.
I look back at Verr.
“You could’ve just asked,” I say.
His gaze sharpens.
“Asked.”
“Instead of testing me,” I clarify.
A pause.
“You assume this was a test.”
“I assume you don’t do anything without a reason.”
“And you believe you have identified it.”
“I think you wanted to see if I’d notice,” I say. “Or if I’d keep my mouth shut.”
“And you did neither.”
“No,” I agree. “I didn’t.”
He studies me again, that same precise, measuring look, like he’s recalibrating something he hasn’t fully defined yet.
“You continue to operate outside expected parameters,” he says.
“I continue to do my job,” I reply.
“You exceed it.”
“Someone has to,” I mutter.
That—
That gets a reaction.
Not outward.
But I see it.
A shift.
Small.
But real.
“You believe the system requires improvement,” he says.
