Page 54 of The Prime-Time Experiment

Declan leaned slightly, his gaze drifting close enough to read. Close enough that she noticed. Riley didn’t move the page away. A small pause settled between them, quiet but not uncomfortable.

“Do I change my speech patterns,” he asked, glancing at her notes, “when clients started to disengage?”

Riley’s pen stilled. She followed his line of sight, registering the note he’d gotten caught on. Adjusts tone and pacing in response to early disengagement cues. For a moment, she said nothing.

“That’s not my observation,” she said finally.

Declan turned his head slightly toward her. “No?”

Riley shook her head once, small and certain. “Ebony’s.”

That registered in a way she could feel more than see. “She noticed that?” he asked, something quieter threading into his voice.

Riley nodded. “She’s identified that you lower your tone and slow your pacing when clients start to disengage. And that you reposition yourself to reduce direct eye-line when they subconsciously become overwhelmed.”

Declan leaned back a fraction, a quiet breath leaving him as he processed it. “I didn’t even realise I was doing that.”

“She did,” Riley said simply.

The silence that followed wasn’t empty. It settled between them, heavier now, threaded with something unspoken.

“Yeah,” he said after a moment, softer this time. “She’s… pretty incredible.”

“She is,” Riley agreed.

Her pen didn’t move again. She became aware of that a few seconds later aware that she had stopped writing entirely, her notes unfinished beneath her hand. Normally, that would have pulled her attention immediately.

It didn’t. Then, like the thought had been sitting there and finally found its way out—

“My family is having dinner here tomorrow night,” Declan said. “You should come.”

Riley blinked, the shift immediate as her attention snapped fully to him. “With who?”

“Tyler and Ebony,” he said. “My parents will be there too. I know they’d really love to meet you.”

The instinct to decline surfaced instantly. Too many variables. Too many people. An environment she hadn’t mapped. Her focus tightened, already cataloguing the unknowns: the layout of the space, the unpredictability of conversation, the expectations she might not identify in advance. The kind of social environment that required constant adjustment without clear structure.

Declan recognised it before she said anything. “It’s not a big thing,” he added, his tone steady, grounding her thought process. “We do it pretty regularly. Family dinner before Tyler’s away for a game.”

Riley’s attention shifted slightly.

“When he travels,” Declan continued, “everything changes for Ebony. This time he’s heading to Adelaide so he’ll be gone about a week.”

The detail settled into place immediately. Distance. Duration. Disruption.

“So, we keep that part consistent,” he said. “Same people. Same setup. Always the night before.”

Riley’s thoughts adjusted. Fewer variables than she initially assumed. Defined participants. Predictable structure. A clear purpose that extended beyond simple social expectation.

She exhaled slowly, her gaze dropping briefly to the table before returning to him.

“If this is part of a structured routine for her,” she said, more carefully now, “wouldn’t introducing an additional variable be… disruptive?”

Declan didn’t answer straight away. Not because he didn’t know but because he was considering it properly.

“I’d ask her,” he said after a moment. “And confirm that it was okay, always do.”

Riley watched him.