Sabrina stared at him. Her eyes were dark, searching his face with a fierce, analytical intensity.
She was visibly working through the realization, trying to decide if he was a master manipulator playing a high-stakes game of chess or if he was simply a man with a terrifyingly sharp intellect. As she watched him, she arrived at a conclusion that seemed to unsettle her: it could be both, and in her world, the distinction between the two didn't matter at all.
"My thesis was on preferential trade agreements," she said, her voice losing its defensive edge and taking on the sharp, rhythmic cadence of someone returning to familiar territory. "Specifically, the massive gap between stated development goals and the actual rate schedules."
"I looked at agreements between larger economies and smaller partners, cases where the larger economy frames the entire deal as 'development aid' to win public favor."
"And the actual terms?" Mike prompted.
