Cole was already at the maintenance cart when Proxy arrived. He had the drain snake out, fingers checking the cable tension with the kind of unconscious competence that only appears after repetition has worn the thought out of a motion. Not skill as performance. Skill as habit.
He looked at Proxy in the exact way they had established on the first day, which was to say he glanced once and then returned to the cable immediately afterward, and somehow that counted as a continuation of an existing conversation instead of the absence of one.
The second day assignment was a different pipe section farther west. A slow leak at a junction fitting had been dripping long enough for the floor beneath it to stain itself rust-red, like patience made visible.
The guard was the same follower-type from before. Same route. Same pacing pattern. Forty-three seconds per pair.
They worked the fitting. Cole handled the wrench, which meant he handled the argument with the rusted joint itself.
