I turned. He stood a few feet away, bucket set down beside his boot, gaze on the cord.
“I already said that,” I said.
“I heard you.”
“And yet you repeated it.”
“To Ed.”
Ed lifted both hands. “The snake will move. Everybody stop forming a safety committee around my ankles.”
I looked at Flint. “I had it handled.”
“I know.”
That stopped me more effectively than if he’d argued.
Flint checked my table from water to sand, from fire blanket to pan placement, from dry grass edge to my stance. He didn’t look smug. He kept the earlier lecture to himself.
His gaze came back to mine.
“Good setup,” he said.
Heat spread under my apron.
“Careful,” I said. “Compliments before lunch can cause confusion.”
“Then your setup is acceptable.”
“Now we’re back to normal.”
His mouth curved. “Is that better?”
“Worse, actually. I liked the compliment.”
“Your setup is good, Sunny.”
My name in his voice still did things I couldn’t list in a production environment, especially with Ed and his emotionally unstable cable snake within hearing distance.
Caprice appeared between the tables with her phone, headset, sunglasses, clipboard, and the strained brightness ofa woman who hadn’t slept enough but had monetized stress before breakfast.
“Great. I love this. Safer setup, brighter outfit, Flint looking less like he wants to report us to three agencies. Sunny, give me a little final-round prep energy. Talk flexibility, pressure, tied score, rivalry. Do not mention the prompt because we don’t have it yet. Ed, get the low angle without lying in the heat path. Joelle, make sure nobody says anything legally interesting.”
“I can’t control miracles,” Joelle said.
Caprice pointed at me. “Sunny, how are we feeling?”
“Like a tightly labeled bin of possibility.”
Caprice stared. “I can work with that.”
Ed lifted his camera. “Rolling in five.”
Flint started to step away.
Caprice snapped her fingers. “No, Flint. Stay nearby. We need both competitors in frame.”
“We’re not cooking yet,” he said.
