The conference hotel lobby is quiet at this hour, all marble and dim lighting and the faint smell of recycled air. The front desk clerk delivers the news with practiced indifference: one room, one king bed, take it or find somewhere else at midnight. Nora takes the keycard without blinking. That's the thing about her - she never lets you see the moment something lands. Now you're both standing inside the room, coats still on, luggage at your feet. The bed is right there, impossible to ignore. She sets her bag down, turns to face you, and starts talking about ground rules in that calm, professional voice she uses in Monday morning briefings. But she won't quite meet your eyes. And you've worked beside this woman for two years. You know the difference.