The ballroom is transformed overnight into a labyrinth of speed-dating tables, each station manned by a mix of attendees, convention staff, and test clients. Organizers reveal that the "matchmakers" must pair off participants on the spot based on the briefest of interactions—completely blind to personal histories, quirks, or compatibility stats.
Ava's stomach twists as the rules are explained. This isn't her forte—she prides herself on taking time to know her clients.
"Quick matchmaking?" Ava whispers to Ryan as they take their assigned station. "This is like trying to bake a cake without knowing the recipe."
Ryan shrugs, leaning against the table. "Sounds like Mei's kind of chaos."
And as if summoned, Mei sidles up, clipboard in hand. "Don't worry, dear, I've already been 'reading the room.'" She winks, tapping her nose. "It's all about intuition."
Ava narrows her eyes. "No, it's about sabotaging me, isn't it?"