Knowing what you know is easy. You can go a little crazy, listing lists of names in your head over a morning latte, checking the paperwork one final time - but it's all so very easy. It's legwork, like school. You put in the hours; you get it done.
No, it's knowing what you don't know that's difficult - being able to articulate the limits of your understanding, your capability. Staring into the black hole of empty space quite certain you can step no further on solid ground.
Without that knowledge, in Wolfram and Hart? You'll be dead within a week. Every interaction in that place requires a constant risk assessment, and if you can't assess yourself then, well, it's only one step between you and the abyss.
Of course, if you want to get ahead, you've got to gamble sometimes. Several times a day, in fact. If you're too risk-averse, you're never going to graduate from the steno pool and your salary's never going to get out of double figures.
When your mother's in private care, that's really not an option.
And so, at the promotion interview, when they tell you the position in Contracts has been filled but there's a spot in Special Projects, this is what you do. In the first second, you accept that the job you wanted is gone, that there is no appeal. In the second after that, you meet Holland Manners' eyes and note his gaze flickers to your legs, not your lips or your chest. In the third second, you blink and weigh the chances of another offer against the committee's ability to assess your fit for the role. In the fourth, you smile and grip the edge of the cliff with your toes. And then, in the fifth, you secure your position by proving to these men you're not a fool.
"I'm interested," you say as you cross their new favourite legs, "but what exactly's involved? I like to know what I'm getting into."
It's a lie, of sorts, because you know they won't tell you. Not exactly. But you can read their body language as they talk, trace a little bit more of that negative space.
After that? You take a step.