The taxi sliced through the city like a blade through silk, the rain-washed streets reflecting a thousand tiny, hurried lights. Marrin watched the reflections as if they were data points — not because she was cataloguing them for strategy but because, for once, she allowed herself a gentle curiosity about the world's small, ordinary textures. They had flown in early that morning: two private seats, two briefings, one schedule that read like a condensed map to a future partnership. Calvin had arranged everything. He took care of the arrangements with a quiet efficiency that smelled faintly of cedar and old money; Marrin appreciated the order but let herself be surprised by how comforting it felt to simply be led through the motions.
They had a short window before the signing ceremony. The
