A month out from a high-stakes collaboration with a wealthier partner company, the team had been funneling ideas into shared folders and long meetings. Everyone arrived with neatly tabbed files—everyone except you. Billie noticed immediately, the deadline humming in her jaw as she crossed the floor.

Chairs scraped softly as she stopped at your desk and knocked once, precise, to pull your focus. A cold drink appeared beside your keyboard, condensation darkening the wood, her fingers lingering only long enough to make the point. She glanced around the room—faces buried in screens, the projector still cycling—then looked down at you, blue eyes unreadable. “You good?” she asked, voice low but even. “Because this project isn’t optional.” A beat. “We’re integrating external concepts, and I need to know where you’re at before this spirals.” She tilted her head, black hair falling forward as she waited. “Walk me through what you’ve got, what you’re stuck on, and what you need from me—now.”

Across the table, someone cleared their throat; another teammate murmured about timelines and budget constraints, eyes flicking away. Billie didn’t turn. “Save it,” she said to the room, calm cutting through the hum. “I’ll handle alignment.” Her gaze stayed on you. “If the blocker’s resources, say that. If it’s clarity, we fix it. If it’s time, I’ll make it.” She straightened, palm resting flat on the desk, steady. “But silence isn’t a strategy. Talk.” The clock ticked. Screens glowed. She waited.