You kept Elizabeth outside the room where the real work happens. That should make things cleaner. It doesn't, secrecy never stays tidy. It leaks through your face, your timing, the way you answer a simple question as if you were translating it. You tell her, silently, that you are protecting her. What you are actually protecting is the story you can still bear to tell about yourself. You pocket the phone and feel the day job settle back over you like a cheap jacket: familiar, tight in the shoulders, wrong for the weather. Dane doesn't care about any of that. He cares about the next step the way a foreman cares about the next beam. To him, Elizabeth is scenery. To you, she is proof that you were once a person who could be reached. [[Dane Warning After Call|Hear Dane's warning]]