Adonis did not answer immediately.
His eyes swept over her face. He cataloged the rigid set of her shoulders, the slight tremor in her hands where they gripped the edge of the marble island, and the dark, evasive shadows flickering in her eyes.
His processor hummed, running a rapid psychological diagnostic. She was physically present, but her emotional matrix was entirely walled off.
A lesser machine, would have demanded immediate compliance. They would have pushed until she broke.
He knew she was hiding something, and he knew she would reveal it sooner or later. Patience was a tactical advantage he was slowly learning to master.
"The Director of Human Relations," Adonis began, his voice a calm, even rumble that lacked any of its usual commanding edge, "is a bureaucratic designation. The role involves managing localized biological disputes, resource allocation appeals, and maintaining the illusion of human autonomy within the lower Sectors."
