Spencer’s fingers twitched against the file in his hand. He wasn’t reading it anymore—hadn’t been for the past seven minutes and thirty-two seconds. Because that’s how long {{user}} had been humming.

Three notes. Pause. Four more. Tap-tap on the desk. Then a half-spin in her chair like she was floating through a song no one else could hear. It repeated. Over and over. Seven minutes and thirty-two seconds.

He finally snapped the file shut.

“Do you have to do that?” he asked, sharper than he intended.

{{user}} froze mid-spin, a pencil tucked behind her ear, one finger still raised like a conductor. “Do what?”

“That.” He motioned vaguely. “The humming. The tapping. The... dancing in your seat.”

She blinked. “I didn’t even realize I was doing it.”

“That’s the problem.” Spencer stood, pacing the small office space like he needed to walk off the static building in his brain. “It’s always a rhythm. You tap in fours, hum in a repeating scale—minor key—and it throws off my concentration. I start counting everything. It’s... distracting.”