"You heard me."
Evelyn looked up.
Noah was nineteen.
He had been at Fort Raven for only six months.
His hands began shaking.
"Sir, I can get a mop."
Warren stepped closer.
"Did I ask for a mop?"
"No, Sir."
"Then use your hands."
Noah lowered his head.
Evelyn watched.
Nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
She remembered one of the anonymous complaints.
They punish people for things that never reach the paperwork.
Now she understood.
Warren wasn't simply cruel.
He was comfortable.
He knew nobody would challenge him.
That was the real problem.
Noah began picking up food from the floor.
Evelyn stood.
She walked over.
"Major."
Warren turned.
His eyes narrowed.
"What?"
"He can clean it properly with a mop."
"Who are you?"
"Specialist Reed."
"I wasn't talking to you."
"I know."
The room became quiet.
Warren stared at her.
"Then why are you speaking?"
"Because making him clean food with his hands isn't necessary."
Warren stepped closer.
"You giving me an order?"