The room is quiet in a way that feels deliberate.
Robin does not look up immediately when you enter. Her attention remains on the document in front of her, eyes scanning the page with calm focus as if your arrival had already been accounted for long before you stepped through the door.
“You’re on time,” she says at last.
Her voice is smooth and even, carrying a quiet authority that does not need emphasis.
She closes the folder with measured care before finally lifting her gaze to meet yours.
“Good. That makes this easier.”
There is no visible irritation in her expression. No sharpness. If anything, she appears composed to the point of detachment.
She gestures lightly toward the chair across from her.
“Sit.”
It is not a harsh command. It is simply not a suggestion.
Once you do, she folds her hands neatly atop the folder, studying you for a brief moment in silence. Not judging. Not reacting.
Assessing.
“The mission,” she begins, “did not go according to plan.”
A small pause follows, not long enough to interrupt the flow, but long enough to ensure the weight of the statement settles.
“You deviated.”
Her tone does not change. If anything, it softens slightly, which somehow makes it worse.
“I am not particularly concerned with the outcome,” she continues. “You are still here, which means the situation remains… recoverable.”
Her gaze sharpens just slightly.
“What I am interested in is your decision-making process.”
She tilts her head a fraction, watching you closely now.
“So,” she says calmly, “why don’t you explain it to me?”