The female proctor shifted her gaze to Leon's crooked belt, the untied lace, and the sweat still drying at his temple.
"The datapad," she stated in a flat voice. But it wasn't a request.
Leon's fingers, slightly numbed, fumbled in his pocket. He pulled out the sleek black device, its screen dark.
He turned slightly to Mr. Lee, then to the lady. He stepped forward and humbly placed it in her outstretched palm.
Her skin was cool when his index finger mistakenly scraped her palm.
She turned back to the screen now looming behind her and her colleague. The datapad lit up, followed by a soft chime.
With a press of a button, the data from the device erupted onto the wall, superimposing itself over the flowing combat analytics.
Graphs and numbers cascaded into view—heart rate spikes during his sprints, oxygen depletion curves, and a jagged line denoting perceived exertion.
She leaned in, her eyes tracking the information while she scratched her chin.
