You draft the message that nudges patience without naming it, because naming it would sound like manipulation, and sounding like manipulation is the one thing Elliot Cinder cannot afford, even while he does exactly that. It echoes Isabella's own language: confirmation, no unnecessary reaction, waiting for a cleaner signal. You borrow her music and hope she hears harmony, not mimicry. Your fingers hover. You read the draft aloud, quietly, and picture her reading it on a train, in a lift, in the thirty seconds between meetings. You try to hear where she might pause. Pauses are danger. If she sees herself in it, she may trust it. If she sees you in it, you are finished. Inside the apartment nothing changes. The fridge hums. A garbage truck idles in the street. The gap between the quiet of the room and the violence of what you are about to do makes you genuinely nauseous. Then you catch yourself: you have not thought about where this is being sent from. **What do you do?** - **Send it now from your apartment WiFi**: faster, but it leaves a faint trace. [[Cybercrime/The_Phisherman/Send from Apartment WiFi|Send it immediately]] - **Log off, walk to the 24-hour diner, use their public WiFi**: thirty minutes, but no trail. [[Cybercrime/The_Phisherman/Send from Public WiFi|Walk to the diner and send it]]