Sera knew the moment the Sheriff decided to stop arguing with her.
The clue didn't come in his posture. He didn't relax, he didn't lean back or soften his expression, nor did he do anything that looked like concession.
What had changed was the way he stopped reacting.
The irritation on his face vanished and the calculation sharpened.
The man across the desk was no longer treating her as a problem to be solved but as a variable that needed to be containment.
"You misunderstand something," the Sheriff replied at last, his voice even, and his hands folded together on the desk. "I am not here to convince you."
Sera stayed where she was, weight supported by Aerenyx, pain held at bay by stubborn refusal to acknowledge it. Psycho's hand remained at her scar. Zubair didn't move. Caerwyn stood apart, still, watchful, exactly where he'd chosen to place himself.
"Good," she replied. "Because I'm not interested in being persuaded."
