Tseng takes the pushback as gracefully as he can. Nothing shows on his face, as clear and impassive as ever, though the dog sets her eyes on him in warning.

Regardless, he does as he's told. He sits primly on the couch, not in repose, but in wait. He nods along to Rufus's supposition; with the various ranks and executives in turmoil over Rufus shaking things up so, no meetings have been scheduled, period. And if they have been, which they likely are, he was not invited.

It makes him think they are getting careless, that they've given the old guard far too much time to catch up to them. It's his fault too. They have—not wasted, Tseng cannot bring himself to think that, but they have lost a lot of time.