Page 11 of Shielding Instinct

She didn’t look like a woman on the edge. She looked a little fatigued, but that was probably because of that travel sickness patch behind her ear.

“It looks like you might be one of the lucky people who found themselves in an environment where you can swim easily,” he offered.

It was interesting that even though she smiled in response, it didn’t convey emotion as much as it provided a punctuation mark. Like she was using the smile to buy her some time as the gears whirred. His sister did that, and as his teammate Halo liked to say, Hawkeye’s sister was “mad genius.”

This conversation jazzed Hawkeye. He liked that Petra dove into a topic and expected him to keep up. He liked the intelligence of the subject.

“I’ll add this to the thought pot,” Petra said. “There was a study of people living in primitive hunter-gatherer societies. Researchers found that those people with neurodivergent traits such as ADHD are highly esteemed in their cultures. Those who get bored—and are always seeking the stimulation of encountering something new—are much more successful in those societies than neurotypical members are. In our society, however, it’s the opposite. Of course, neurodivergence isn’t just being on the ADHD or autism spectrums. It’s anyone who’s wired differently.” She held out an open palm as if she were about to categorize him in a pot of neurodivergent folks. “For example, brain scientists have discovered that people who are associated with certain high-risk professions—like free-soloing rock climbing or, say, special operators in the military—often have anunderactiveamygdala. That’s the fear-center part of the brain. Those individuals can do things that others can’t because they experience less anxiety. They’re biologically wired to be less afraid than an average Joe. Like you possibly are, or your pals.” She looked back at the row of Hawkeye’s teammates.

Hawkeye rubbed a hand over his chin. “Interesting.” Walk onto a plane and think you’re perfectly normal, sit on that plane, and wonder if you’ve got a micro-amygdala.

“Isn’t it, though?’ She asked. “Brains fascinate me.”

“And these are studies you’re reading for personal interest or work?” He was trying to square the colored stains on her hands with this conversation.

“Both. I chose my profession because of my interests. No, sorry, that isn’t exactly right. I chose my profession, and within that, I pursued what was interesting to me. Similar to you, I’d assume. Working with dogs is surely a way of life.”

“You’re right about that. So, you’re a college professor?” he ventured.

She frowned. “Really? Professor? That’s my vibe?”

“Wild stab.” He found himself grinning at her. He liked that their conversation flowed easily, but she didn’t make it too easy. He was up for a challenge.

Might be I’m having fun because of my micro-amygdala.

That thought amused him mostly because it might have some truth behind it. Hawkeye knew some guys who found an intelligent woman intimidating.

“What other careers did you consider for me?” Petra asked.

“A doctor because of the journal. An entrepreneur because of your direct focus and strong handshake game. A creative field of some kind?” He pointed toward her hands which she lifted to examine the stains, turn over, then put back on Cooper. “Psychiatry, maybe? You said brains interested you.”

“Better and better.” Her focus was on his mouth.

Yeah, he was still grinning. He couldn’t seem to help it. “Any of them would be an interesting profession if they fit with your brain wiring.”

“Agreed.” Her return smile was a bit tentative. Maybe it turned a little shy. Maybe, like his sister, she was starting to get overwhelmed by attention. “So, was I right?”

“I’m with the FBI.”

“The FBI?” No, he never would have guessed that.

“Mmmm.”

Yup, he needed to wind up this conversation. He could read the signs. She was done.

“I was guessing something less Foggy Bottom. There’s not much room for creativity and entrepreneurship in the FBI.” Hawkeye turned to the flight attendant who had arrived with her cart.

“What would you like to drink?” the attendant asked as she held out a bag of salty snacks.

“Nothing for me, thank you,” Petra said.

“Water, please.” After accepting and thanking the server, Hawkeye turned back to find Petra pulling the shade down again.

“Is it okay?” she asked.

“Whatever makes you comfortable. You have your eye mask on your forehead, I bet your patch makes you groggy.” He pointed toward his neck to indicate the motion sickness patch.

She blinked at him. And once again, he saw her motors humming.

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