Isabelle made me file the Gate report myself. Some bullshit about "learning proper documentation procedures" while she lounged against the wall with that almost-smile playing on her lips. I knew what she was really doing—watching me squirm through VHC bureaucracy, looking for more tiny inconsistencies to add to her mental dossier on me.
"You missed section 8-C," she said, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at the tablet. "Estimated monster population density."
"How the fuck am I supposed to know that?" I growled, scrolling back up. "I didn't count every goddamn beetle in the dungeon."
"Approximately twenty-three," she supplied without hesitation. "Plus the Boss entity."
I gave her a flat look. "You counted?"
"I always count." She said it like I'd asked if she always breathed.
