Page 4 of The Prime-Time Experiment

The host shifted her body to the left, in an obvious attempt to be seen around Declan’s hulking form, quickly glancing between the two of them, smile tightening.

“And Declan, maybe there’s a balance here—”

She placed her manicured fingers towards his body as she spoke, hand brushing lightly against his shoulder in a practised, effortless gesture Riley assumed was designed to redirect and reclaim control of her segment. Instead of working though, Declan moved himself down on the couch out of her reach, continuing to be turned fully towards her.

“That’s one way to look at it,” he said, not taking his eyes off Riley. There it was again: that openly wide smile, as if he was trying to appear relaxed and effortless. “Or you could say effectiveness doesn’t mean much if no one actually follows through.”

Riley felt something in her stomach tighten. It wasn’t frustration exactly, but the awareness of being pushed. She felt it was deliberate. Why else would he be trying to prove her unknowledgeable?

“Consistency requires more than repetition,” she said. She was getting as emotive as she could be in a conversation, her arms flying up to help support her argument. “It requires direction. Without structure, outcomes become variable.”

“And with too much structure,” he returned smoothly, “people quit.”

The host laughed again, lighter this time but with an edge. “Okay, I feel like I’ve started something here…”

Riley barely registered it. “That assumes the structure is the issue,” she said. “More often, it’s a lack of understanding of how to apply it.”

Declan didn’t even need a moment to process what she had said. “Or,” he said, “it’s that most people don’t have the time, resources, or background to implement something designed under ideal conditions.”

Riley recognised the shift immediately. That was such a convenient re-framing of his own words. Riley was sure the people at home found them pretty, especially from his lips but it was certainly not accurate.

“And lowering the standard addresses that?” she asked.

The host inhaled slightly, clearly preparing to step in with the sudden volatility. “I think what Riley’s getting at is—”

“I understand what she’s getting at,” Declan said. Still calm, still looking directly at her. How could he be so calm, when he was forcing her blood to bubble with his idiocy?

“And no,” he continued, “I don’t think it’s lowering the standard. I think it’s adjusting the approach so that people actually have a chance of meeting it.”

Riley held his gaze. There was something deeply irritating about the fact that he wasn’t defensive. That he wasn’t pushing back harder. That he was steady. Riley had never seen the point in having jealousy, but in this instance, she could see how it would be useful. Instead, it made her want to prove him wrong more.

“That would depend,” she said, “on whether the outcome remains consistent across different applications.”

“And I’d say it does,” he replied. “Just not always in the way you’re measuring it.”

Now he was saying that her methodology was inaccurate, too?

The host looked between them, smile fixed but eyes sharper, clearly weighing whether to interrupt again. Riley was aware distantly that she had never felt the level of anger that she currently possessed in a professional conversation before. She’d had irritating conversations with other researchers, sure, but the arguments were always been rational and professional. She had never experienced this.

“If the metrics aren’t consistent,” she said, “the results aren’t reliable.”

Declan exhaled softly, a quiet breath that almost resembled a laugh. “Or the metrics aren’t capturing the full picture.”

“That would suggest the methodology is flawed.”

He shrugged. “Or incomplete.”

“Which it is not.”

Riley could feel the muscles in her forehead tense and attempted to force them to relax. They would not. The host opened her mouth, then proceeded to double think it and closed it again. Smart. Declan leaned back slightly, studying her now in a way that was no longer subtle or unintentional.

“Can I ask you something?” he said.

Riley didn’t hesitate, maybe he was wanting to clarify his incorrect assumptions. “You can.”

“How many people have actually used what you’re talking about?”

The question should not have made her falter, especially due to its predictability. Still, it shifted something in the precision of her focus. Of course he was going to attack her application, she had given him too much benefit of the doubt.