“Not lying,” I correct. “Emotionally pressured.”
He nods slowly. “Right.”
“Under pressure,” I continue, “people start reverting to their linguistic baseline. The way they learned to speak when they were younger.”
“That’s…actually fascinating.”
Samantha sighs dramatically. “Oh, my god.”
Neither of us looks at her.
“So even if someone is trying to sound professional,” Adrian says slowly, “their real speech patterns leak through.”
“Exactly.”
He leans back in his chair, impressed. “That’s terrifying.”
Samantha waves her hands in the air between us. “Nope. Nope. Conversation hijacked.”
We both look at her.
She points toward the hallway. “I’m trying to discuss Professor Ben’s sweater.”
Adrian snorts. “Why?”
“Because it looked like a depressed Christmas tree.”
I bury my face in my hands. “This isn’t important.”
“It’sextremelyimportant.”
“I’m working on identifying a criminal.”
“And I’m identifying a fashion crime,” Samantha replies smoothly.
Adrian bursts out laughing.
I groan again. “Please tell me you two are leaving in twenty minutes.”
“Thirty,” Samantha corrects. She pops a chip into her mouth and smiles sweetly. “And we are absolutely discussing the sweater.”
We do.
Against my will.
For the next half hour.
Samantha offers an extremely detailed analysis of Professor Ben’s catastrophic sweater choice—apparently it featured geometric shapes, muted greens, and, as Adrian insists, a tragic attempt at “academic chic.” Adrian offers unhelpful commentary and several dramatic reenactments of Professor Ben walking down the hallway like a confused woodland elf.
I try to care.
I fail.
Eventually, I manage to shove Adrian out of the lab with the promise that if he stays one minute longer, I’ll start analyzing his speech patterns for hidden psychological trauma.
He claims that’s threatening.
Samantha says it’s accurate.
