Cordelia: He's rehearsed. Every word out of his mouth has been polished. This is not a man stumbling into love. He's presenting a résumé.

V: Too precise. He mapped the room, clocked every weak point, noted who was armed and who wasn't. That's not dinner behavior. That's infiltration.

Alexander: I know. It's like talking to a mirror that already knows what I'm going to ask. And yet... Fractal smiles when he speaks. That counts for something.

Ten: Does it? She smiled the same way at that crying fungus merchant who tried to gift her a corpse orchid. I think she likes eccentric.

Cordelia: He said "bird of beauty" and "Fractals upon Fractals." That's not poetry, that's fixation. Obsession wrapped in flattery.

V: His background doesn't check out cleanly. Blanche's Domain has no direct record of him, and even Visitors are usually tagged with markers. He's missing those.

Alexander: He knew about my mother's Arte variant. That's not common knowledge. He named it Bioweaver's Septuplication like he'd read an internal family report.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Ten: So he's either got access to a source inside your bloodline, or he's very good at pretending he does.

Cordelia: He's hiding something. I can't tell if it's dangerous yet... but I'll find it. I'll pull the thread in his psyche and see what unravels.

V: Already slipped a sensor thread beneath his chair. Salted it, bound it. If he breaks a ritual line, we'll know immediately.

Alexander: If he meant harm, he's had chances. This feels more like someone trying too hard to be perfect. Like he needs this. Like there's something worse behind him.

Ten: Needing something doesn't mean we give it to him. Especially not Fractal. Or your trust.

Cordelia: Let him think he's winning us. Play gracious. Pass the roast. I'll break into his dreams tonight. If he's lying, his subconscious will scream.

V: I'll tail his shadow. If it doesn't match his steps, I cut it clean.

Alexander: He stays close. He earns the steward's pin. But he earns it under glass. Observed. Measured.

Ten: And if he turns?

Alexander: Then I won't need Gloss to deal with him.

Cordelia: I'll keep my knives smiling.

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