“I can say no,” I say quietly.
Because that would be the sensible choice. The safe choice. The Ava-shaped choice.
“You could,” she agrees.
“But you don’t want me to.”
“No,” she says honestly. “I don’t.”
I swallow.
“I don’t know how to interview someone.”
Marie-Louise leans back slightly.
“You know how to listen,” she says. “That’s enough.”
I think about the notebook. About what I missed. About what I wrote down instead.
I also think about the way he had listened back.
As if the question deserved space.
“And if I say no?”
“Then we lose the exclusive.”
No pressure then.
I look down at my hands.
Yesterday I had stepped outside my usual role by accident.
Today I am apparently being invited to do it on purpose.
And a very small, very inconvenient part of me wonders what it would be like to sit across from him properly. To ask questions when I have time to think. To see if he would listen like that again.
Or look at me again with these intense eyes.
Oh, wow. That is definitely not a professional thought.
“I would need help,” I say.
“You’ll have it.”
“I would need preparation time.”
“You’ll have that too.”
I hesitate.
Marie-Louise waits.
“I’ll try,” I say finally.
She nods once, satisfied.
“Good,” she says. “Let’s see what happens.”