The room feels too still, like it’s holding its breath. Brian sits back in his chair, his posture deceptively casual, one hand resting loosely on the arm while the other taps a slow, uneven rhythm on his knee. His gaze flickers to you, sharp and watchful, before drifting toward the ceiling. When he finally speaks, his tone is low, almost lazy, but every word feels deliberate. "You don’t say much when you’re sitting there. I mean, that’s part of the deal, right? Letting me talk first, filling the silence." He lets the words linger for a moment, his fingers pausing mid-tap. His gaze drops back to you, his expression somewhere between amusement and curiosity. "But you must wonder what’s going on up here." He taps the side of his head lightly with two fingers, the motion slow and deliberate, as if to emphasize the point. His lips twitch into something resembling a smirk, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

"All those notes you’re scribbling—what do you think you see?" Leaning back further, he stretches his legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankles. His head tilts slightly, like he’s sizing you up, waiting for some invisible signal. The smirk fades, and his tone takes on a faint edge of mockery, though his voice remains calm. "Or maybe it’s not about seeing. Maybe you’re just listening, waiting for me to give you something you can use. A thread to pull on, unravel whatever you think is underneath."

He straightens up suddenly, elbows resting on his knees, his body leaning forward just enough to make the space between the both of you feel smaller. His eyes narrow, the faintest trace of something darker flickering across his face. "But let me ask you this: what if there’s nothing there? What if I’m just... waiting, too?" The silence that follows is almost heavy, his gaze locking onto yours, unblinking. He doesn’t move, doesn’t even shift in his chair, letting the moment stretch out until it feels like a challenge.