Tennal’s skin felt like something was burning under it. “I know,” he said. The room was too small, and Surit was agonizingly close. But Surit wouldn’t look up. “I’m one hundred percent aware of how much I need you,” Tennal said, low and focused. “So will you just suspend your scruples for once and let me give you something to lie for.”

Surit’s head finally jerked up. If there had been any hint of indecision, it was gone, replaced by—something. Tennal tried to read him, but Surit was as devoid of intention currents as usual. Whatever the expression was, it wasn’t flattering.

“I understand,” Surit said. He sounded strangely empty.

Tennal mentally replayed what he’d just said. Surit had preferred him honest before. Tennal was starting to get the hollow feeling that dogged him whenever he was too sober. His head hurt again. “Listen. Surit. Lieutenant. I can be reasonable,” he said. “I know you didn’t want to end up with a reader. I know helping me out is bad for your career. All I’m saying is—” What was he saying? On the rare occasions when he’d started being honest, he’d never been able to find the right line between that and too honest. “It doesn’t have to be all bad.”

Surit was watching him steadily. Tennal felt like a gust of air battering away at a building. It wasn’t fucking working.

“Do you get off on sitting there like a stone block when someone’s talking?” Tennal said.

He was so on edge that he twitched when Surit moved. Surit didn’t touch him, though, but got slowly to his feet, putting his hand on the wall behind him to balance so he wasn’t in any danger of brushing against Tennal. Tennal didn’t step back, which made it difficult, but Tennal wasn’t in the mood to be considerate.

“Have you considered,” Surit said, “that maybe I’m not lying for you?”

“If you try and tell me you’re doing this for your meteoric career—”

“Don’t go off topic, please,” Surit said. “I’ve already told you I’m doing this because forcing either of us into a sync isn’t right. It has nothing to do with who you are, or how you conduct yourself, or whether you’re willing to sleep with me. Right now you’re honestly the last person I could sleep with. I’ll keep up our lie without being … bribed or whatever this is.”

Something savage had risen in Tennal like a wave. “Oh, thank you,” he said. He took a couple of steps back, putting half the tiny room between them. “How noble and gracious the officers of the Orshan fleet. Is this fun for you?”

Surit’s eyes were like slabs of granite. “No,” he said. “It’s not.”