It was, Mike noted, the most honest thing she'd said to him since she'd walked into the Phoenix back room the night before. It wasn't a refusal, and it wasn't an acceptance. It was a raw admission of uncertainty.
For a woman who clearly built her entire professional existence on the foundation of being the most prepared person in any room, admitting she didn't know was a significant concession. It was a crack in the armor.
"That's fair," Mike said.
He didn't push. He knew that in a situation like this, the most important skill wasn't knowing when to strike but knowing when to withdraw.
He picked up his bag and turned toward the door, sensing that the conversation had reached its natural limit; staying any longer would have moved from intellectual engagement into the territory of "lingering," and lingering was a risk he wasn't ready to take just yet.
"Mr. Hawk," she called out just as he reached the threshold.
