Page 70 of The Gaybor War

"The average wait time was reduced by nearly forty percent, which suggests better service flow and⁠—"

"Interesting."

I stop. He blinks at me.

"You’re not listening."

One brow lifts. "Untrue."

"What did I just say?"

His neutral expression doesn’t shift.

"Something deeply passionate about noodles."

The answer is immediate enough that I almost laugh. Instead, I narrow my eyes.

"Are you pretending to listen because you’re bored and want me to stop talking faster," I ask, "or are noodles actually a hot topic for you?"

His gaze sharpens, attention finally fully mine.

"Interesting observation."

And suddenly I understand. How many times have I heard him say the exact same line? "Oh my God," I say slowly. "You really aren’t listening half the time."

All this time, I thought he was fully invested and tuned in!

His mouth curves faintly. "Counterpoint, your biceps are visible, so expecting active comprehension feels unreasonable."

The words hit me like a physical force. For a second, I just stare at him. Then, despite myself, I laugh. A real one. Low and helpless enough to make his smile deepen.

Now I know exactly what he’s been doing. He hasn’t been dismissing me. He’s been watching. Distracted.

The meeting wraps soon after. Chairs scrape back as people file out. Benji erases the board while I linger.

"Benji."

He pauses, eraser still in hand, and turns. "Yes?"

There it is again. Patience. No pressure. No performance. Just room to decide what I want. It's unsettling. I feel ridiculous for missing his noise.

"I didn’t say no."

His expression doesn't change. "I know. You also didn’t say yes."

Fair. Annoyingly fair. "I’m… not great at moving quickly."

A hint of a smile ghosts his mouth. "I’ve noticed."

"I’m working on it."

He considers that. Then sets the eraser down. "Okay."

Okay. Not a challenge. Not an ultimatum. Just okay.

Something in my chest loosens. "I'll get there," I hear myself say.

His smile warms. "I know."