Andrea couldn't help but smile.

It wasn't simply the invitation itself that amused her, but how refreshingly transparent it was. After days spent navigating carefully constructed budget proposals, departmental priorities and competing strategic visions, Angus had dispensed with the formalities entirely and offered what was, in effect, an invitation into the old guard. There was something almost comforting about its honesty. No sales pitch. No attempt to disguise the political implications beneath corporate jargon. Just a simple proposition: come and spend an evening shooting virtual zombies with the people who had quietly kept Lhotse running for decades, and in return inherit a network of friendships, favours and institutional memory that no organizational chart could ever capture.

It was, Andrea realised, probably the most valuable offer she'd received all week. That was precisely why she couldn't answer it immediately. Every meaningful decision she'd made since accepting the position had quietly altered the political landscape around her. Funding Admiral Scipio had strengthened Security's hand. Recruiting Paradisia had deliberately introduced an outsider into her inner circle. Giving Angus a financial strategy built around flexibility rather than aggressive expansion had just handed the Economics Directorate five years of relevance and stability. None of those decisions had existed in isolation. Every allocation of money, every appointment and every expression of confidence had communicated something to the rest of the corporation about [i]where[/i] their new Chief of Operations intended to steer the ship.

This invitation would do the same. Andrea had only just begun meeting the people who made Lhotse what it was. Some represented the established order. Others had spent years quietly enduring the consequences of decisions made above their heads. Still others, she suspected, had ambitions she had yet to uncover. If she accepted Angus' invitation now, before she'd even finished introducing herself to the rest of the executive structure, she wouldn't simply be attending a social gathering. She would be signalling, intentionally or otherwise, that she had chosen her camp.

Perhaps that would prove to be the correct decision one day. She simply wasn't prepared to make it today.

"I appreciate the invitation." Andrea said, rising from her chair and offering Angus a firm handshake. "More than you probably realise."

A faint smile remained on her face, warm enough to remove any suggestion of rejection while measured enough to leave no ambiguity in what followed.

"And I do intend to take you up on it. Just... not yet." She released his hand and straightened her jacket, her expression thoughtful rather than apologetic. "I've spent the last week being introduced to departments, but I still haven't been introduced to the company. There are people I've yet to meet, perspectives I've yet to hear and problems I don't yet know exist. If I sit down with the 'Old Boys Club' now, I'll inevitably begin seeing Lhotse through their eyes before I've had the chance to develop my own."

Her gaze drifted briefly towards the office window before returning to Angus.

"I'd rather earn the perspective to appreciate what your generation has built before I become part of it. Once I've done that, I'll happily spend an evening embarrassing myself at whatever decades old co-operative shooter you all insist was the pinnacle of interactive entertainment." The wry smile widened just enough to betray that she wasn't entirely joking. "When I do finally accept that invitation, I'd like everyone in the room to know I came because I wanted to spend time with colleagues, not because I needed a political faction." She gave a small nod, one professional to another. "I hope you can appreciate the distinction. Thank you for your time, Director."