Then I draw a box around command because that is the part he would probably admit to.
Jennifer follows my gaze. “He’s not always what people expect.”
“People rarely are when PR says that.”
Below us, Evan jumps a drill early and forces a turnover so sharp the bench makes noise. Ryan’s whistle cuts a second later. Evan circles back grinning; Ryan says something that makes the boards laugh. Ryan does not.
I write: Room tension is not hostile. More dangerous. They like him.
“Does McKinney always freeload on structure?” I ask.
Jennifer’s tablet freezes halfway through a scroll.
Marc says, “Freeload?”
“Uses the system until he sees a better play, then dares everyone to be annoyed when it works.”
Marc looks out at the ice. “That is one interpretation.”
“Is it wrong?”
He does not answer.
Even better.
Jennifer slides an access sheet across the table.
Fifteen minutes. Communications nearby. Approved practice observation. Locker room access requires clearance. Family questions stay off-limits unless Ryan opens that door.
“Does Ryan know you are offering this?” I ask.
A pause.
Small, but there.
“He’ll be briefed,” Marc says.
An answer shaped like yes without becoming one.
The old me would have mistaken the access sheet for a door opening.
This version checks the hinges.
“I don’t send questions in advance.”
“We are not asking you to,” Jennifer says.
“I don’t allow quote approval.”
“No one said approval.”
“And I don’t write profiles from talking points.”
Marc looks at Jennifer. Jennifer looks at me.
Jennifer stands. “We’ll start with Ryan.”
“One-on-one,” she says. “Communications nearby, not at the table.”
