The gray on the timer tried to call itself law, and the ledger did not agree.
"Sixty," Comms said. "Issuer Gray staging, node degrade."
The donor with the leather folio stepped into the ring with a calm that wanted to be useful. "Consent on record," he said. "If you want a test, I can do one here."
"Consent logged," Sofia said. "Phone first, then the lounge POS, both at your signal."
The reporter raised her mic a polite inch and kept her eyes on the tents, not faces. Security shaped the ring with open hands so cameras would behave like tools. Noah's knuckles settled at the pad's edge near Ava's left shoulder, the quiet of his open collar doing civic work. Do not flinch.
Counsel read from his tablet without adopting the drama. "Issuer Gray 17:41," he said. "Network advisory. Nonbinding. Possible slower approvals for certain banks. No door text, no menu."
"We cannot cut a bank," Elias said, tone level. "We can ride the lag and post tokens when they land. I will show a tiny lag chart under the ledger in small type."
"Record that," Vivian said. "Pin remains live."
The high-value donor angled his phone so the camera would catch the tents, not his name. "Keep it small for public," he said. "Two fives here, larger link later."
"Good," Ava said. "Numbers we can own on the minute, pledge after the briefing."
"Thirty," Comms said.
Sofia slid a fresh card under the method tent and wrote in block print, steady and useful: ISSUER = BANK SPEED, NOT A HOLD. She set it for lenses.
The liaison set another placard on the easel: PROOF AT 17:41, then 17:45. The room exhaled a notch.
"Fifteen," Comms said.
"Harbor stands by at forty-one," Sofia said. "Consent on record."
"Run it if our table stalls," Ava said. "Cadence anchors the room."
The hotel display tried a shy red border. Elias cut it at bezel without turning his head. Names credited. Postmortem small.
"Ten," Comms said.
"Phone first," Ava told the donor. "Then POS. We keep the gifts small in public."
He nodded, already ready. "On your count."
"Three," Sofia said.
"Two," he said, voice steady.
"One," Ava said.
The phone hummed and decided to think about itself. The line ringed once, then again.
"Lag," Elias said. "No hold. Let it breathe."
Across the clinics slice a careful voice whispered into the ring. "Greenhill phone can go," she said. "Consent on record."
"Do it," Ava said. "On our count."
"Three," Sofia said.
"Two," Greenhill said.
"One," Ava said.
A click, a second longer than comfort, then the small noise of a printer in a room they could not see.
"Approved," Greenhill read. "Token 4478."
Sofia mirrored. The aide set the square. The lounge kept its breath disciplined.
The phone in the folio donor's hand still hummed, polite and stubborn. He did not tap again. He let the minute be a minute.
"POS next," Ava said to the liaison, quiet. "On count."
"Three," Sofia said.
"Two," the liaison said.
"One," Ava said.
The POS hesitated, blinked a friendly nothing, then decided it liked its job. The printer behaved.
"Approved," the liaison read. "Token 8308."
Sofia posted. Counsel lifted his tablet an inch so minutes could see the hour respect itself.
CFO's aide arrived with a page that knew exactly where to stand. "Prudence note," she said. "Room-only posts recommended while Gray persists."
"Facts first," Vivian said from the seam, voice even. "Record the lag. Keep the pin live."
Harbor spoke into the hour with the confidence small tools earn. "Consent on record," the lead said. "Five by phone."
"Run it," Ava said.
"Three," Sofia said.
"Two," the donor said. You could hear a coat sleeve brush a counter.
"One," Ava said.
Click. "Approved," the Harbor lead read. "Token 8309."
Sofia posted. The aide slid the slip onto minutes like a small weight. The room steadied.
Elias added the chart in letters no camera could be angry at: average bank approval plus two seconds, spread three to six. Small. Honest. Boring in exactly the right way.
We read Gray into minutes, ride the lag, and keep the pin live.
The line fit the tents as if the cardboard had waited for it.
The folio donor's phone finally remembered its manners. The little tone did the job pride thinks it can do. "Approved," he said, pleased and discreet. "Token 8310."
Sofia mirrored. The reporter wrote the number before she wrote any other word, a private discipline that made the room better.
"Second five," Ava said gently.
He set his card at the POS without theater. The POS printed as if boredom were a virtue.
"Approved," the liaison read. "Token 8311."
"Appendix," Sofia said, writing as she spoke. "Issuer Gray = network lag; cannot be cut; proofs continue; tokens posted when they land."
"Posted," she added.
A vendor tile tried to color the hotel wall with drama it had not earned: SAFETY MENU 17:42. Elias removed it at bezel and source. Names credited. Postmortem small.
North Freecare came in with a voice that could steady horses. "Our phone proof is ready," she said. "Consent."
"On count," Ava said.
"Three," Sofia said.
"Two," North said.
"One," Ava said.
Printer. "Approved," North read. "Token 4479."
Sofia posted. The method tents kept their square patience. Security kept the ring honest. The reporter glanced at the lag chart, nodded once.
Park Clinic followed with a laugh that sounded like soup. "Phone proof too," he said. "Consent."
"Three," Sofia said.
"Two," Park said.
"One," Ava said.
"Approved," Park read. "Token 4480."
Sofia mirrored. The clinics slice looked like a math problem solved in public.
Noah's thumb tapped the underside of Ava's wrist a single counted beat and left. Hold the cadence.
The liaison glanced at the clock and lifted the PROOF AT card so the camera would remember to be useful. A child near the tray asked if gray meant slow forever. The mother said nothing does, then asked for water, then thanked the tray. The room became kinder by a centimeter.
The reporter tasted a question and chose the better version. "Is there a point where lag becomes an apology to donors," she said, mic low.
"We apologize only for our mistakes," Ava said. "Lag is not ours. We ride it, we post tokens, we keep the door public."
The phone on the easel stand buzzed the way harmless things buzz when they want attention. Comms took a breath that meant she had two items and would keep them apart.
"Riverside ring," she said. "One kiosk throws E-Lag-408, then immediately K-Hold-901, same second. Seller consents to speaker."
The reporter's pen stopped mid-letter. Security leaned a fraction toward the lobby. The knit-cap donor lifted his card like a volunteer who knows when to volunteer.
"Two codes, one second," Elias said. "Lag then vendor hold. I can cut the hold, not the lag."
"Chair," counsel said into the seam.
Vivian did not sharpen her tone. She made it heavier. "We cut the hold path," she said. "Record the lag as minutes. Keep the pin live."
"Seller," Ava said, eyes on the tents, on the pad, on Noah's hand, on the donor's phone still humming in the ring. "You stay on channel. We will count out loud."
"Consent," the seller said. "We have a line. We can phone if you want."
"Phone ready," Sofia said. "POS stands by."
The Riverside kiosk threw its pair of moods at the same breath. "E-Lag-408," the seller read. "Then K-Hold-901."
"Bezel," Elias said. "Cut. Source hold route located. Cutting at ingress. Names credited."
Counsel wrote the second into a box that deserved a box. "17:42:11," he read. "Origin vendor hold service."
"Retry," Ava said. "Let the lag breathe."
The phone in the folio donor's other hand hummed a little stubborn tone and refused to land. His face did not apologize. He looked at the tents, then at her hand on the pad, then back to his screen like a student who likes a hard test.
Harbor spoke softly, an anchor. "We can make :45," the lead said. "Consent on record."
"Do it," Ava said. "Two voices at :45 if we can, table and Harbor."
The reporter lifted her mic the polite inch that says a room is becoming a paragraph. Security made space for the new donor who had stepped up with a card and consent in his mouth.
The Riverside seller kept the channel open, the kind of steadiness people learn standing behind counters through winters.
The folio donor's phone hummed again and did not choose a side.
The kiosk, newly cut free of its hold, considered whether to behave under gray.
The minute arrived, big and small at once. The ledger kept its corner. The ring kept its grammar.
The city asked both codes, and the room answered with numbers.