The Twenty Questions studio lights dimmed to their softer post‑broadcast glow as the crew began to move around the set. Lady Jaye was preparing to leave.
Some operatives relied on firepower. Others relied on stealth. Lady Jaye? She relied on both, plus a smile that could disarm most men faster than a javelin throw.
Hector Ramirez stepped in closer, offering his hand with that trademark mustached smile of his. Lady Jaye met him halfway, her stance still angled just enough that the curve of her back caught the light as she turned toward him.
"Great segment tonight," Hector said, his voice lower now that the cameras were off. "You always bring a spark to the place. The crew perks up the second they hear you're coming in."
Lady Jaye let out a warm, amused laugh, the kind that said she'd heard this sort of thing before and didn't mind it one bit.
"Careful, Hector," she teased, giving his hand a firm shake. "Flint already thinks your mustache is too perfect for its own good."
Hector raised an eyebrow, half‑playful, half‑hopeful. "Should I take that as a warning… or a compliment?"
"A little of both," she teased, her smile soft but practical. "I appreciate the attention. Who wouldn't? But I'm very happily spoken for."
He accepted that with a gracious nod, the grin still lingering. "Fair enough. I know when I'm outmatched. Still... you made the broadcast tonight."
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