The lab lights were the soft kind that made metal look honest. Fans whispered somewhere in the ceiling. On the table, a projection glowed - a stack of lines and numbers and tiny arrows, all of it precise and not at all interested in explaining itself to anyone who didn't already belong.
Raizen leaned in, forearms planted, shadow cutting the light at a clean angle. "If we shave two grams here" he said, tapping near a curve that might have been a joint or might have been nothing, "this should let me change direction without blowing my spine up."
Saffi stood on his right, slate cupped against her ribs like a small animal. "Two grams is… uhh… we can…" she murmured, and pushed her glasses up with a knuckle. "But it… uh… changes your moment of-" She stopped, breathed, started again smaller. "It'll feel different. In a good way." Her stylus hovered, didn't touch. "Maybe."
He didn't look away from the light. "Yeah, that's exactly what I said...?"
