A pause settles behind me, and I can feel him studying the space I’ve chosen, the way I’ve placed us directly in it.
“That’s dangerous, my troublesome little prophet.”
There’s something quieter beneath the words this time, less edge, more awareness.
“Yours, huh?” I ask, finally glancing back at him.
His gaze meets mine immediately, unreadable for a second too long.
“You didn’t object to the title the first time,” he says.
“That depends on which part you’re referring to.”
A faint shift touches his expression. Not quite a smile. Close enough to matter.
“I’m referring to the part where you decided you weren’t expendable,” he replies.
“I was never expendable.”
“No,” he agrees, stepping just slightly closer, enough that the space changes without becoming obvious. “You just became… inconvenient to remove.”
I tilt my head, studying him. “That sounds like progress.”
“It sounds like a complication.”
“You don’t like complications?”
“I prefer the kind I can resolve.”
“And this one?”
His eyes are sharper now.
“Undetermined.”
The air shifts between us, not quite tension, not quite ease, something balanced in between that refuses to settle into either.
“Then maybe you should stop trying to control it,” I say quietly.
“That’s not how this works.”
“It is when you’re not the one leading.”
His attention is on me again, but this time it doesn’t push forward. It holds.
“You’re very certain of that,” he says.
“I don’t need certainty,” I reply. “I just need to be right.”
“And you usually are?”
“Enough to be dangerous.”
“That part I’ve noticed.”
There’s a beat of silence, softer now, stretched thinner, and for a second I think he might push again, test the line further, step into the space the way he did yesterday.
He doesn’t.
