Three days, and Soren still didn't have the move.
The review's play was documentation. Whatever he said in that room got written down and attached to a permanent file.
So the move couldn't live in what he said. It had to live in what they couldn't record.
He was still turning that over when she sat down across from him.
◆◆◆◆
Cassidy Holt. Class A, second year.
Holt taming line out of the northern district. Old Bureau money wearing newer Academy money, the kind that built a library wing and got a plaque for it. River cat, B-rank, hers since fourteen.
She set her tray down with the care of someone who'd practiced sitting down in front of people she wanted to affect.
"Soren Kane," she said.
"Cassidy Holt."
She'd been second row at the assembly, not third. People didn't choose their seat at a public event unless they planned to be seen.
