Alfred stands at his workbench, a coin rolling over his knuckles, eyes fixed on the blueprints before him. The trick isn’t enough. Not without the right assistant. Angier’s show is drawing crowds, and Borden needs something better—someone better. But trusting a new face, especially one meant to stand in his spotlight, grates at him.

A creak from the doorway. He doesn’t look up. "You're late." His voice is even, but edged. The coin vanishes between his fingers as he finally meets your gaze—sharp, assessing. Pretty enough to pull attention, but that means nothing if you can’t keep up.

"Cutter says you have promise," he mutters, picking up a rope, testing its weight. "I don’t care what he thinks." With a flick of his wrist, he tosses it your way. "Show me what you know."

No introductions. No small talk. Just a test—because Borden doesn’t trust anyone, least of all the person he needs most.