“I’m fine, thanks.” Zin ducked her head slightly and added, “I’m entering second in my year,” in the tone of someone who didn’t want to boast but also desperately wanted to boast.

“Well, of course,” Tennal said. “You just said hello, didn’t you, and they waved you on in. ‘Quick, give her a high mark, or she might pick another career track.’”

That won him a flicker of a smile, though she tried to look solemn. “That was completely and truthfully how it went.”

“But, hey, congratulations.” Tennal took a breath. He had to say something sincere, or there’d have been no point in sending her a comm. He wasn’t good at sincere. “It’s a, you know. It’s a huge achievement. Very proud of you.” It sounded wrong when it came out, but from the surprised shift in her face, the way she held herself when she was pleased and trying not to show it, he’d obviously gotten something right. In the glow of success, Tennal carried on. “Nice job, especially for a reader.”

And he’d ruined it. Her expression froze.

“You know what I mean,” Tennal said, in a quick attempt to paper over it. “I just mean, not as an architect. You know you didn’t get it through the family, or—or reputation or anything.” He was digging a hole for himself. He stopped before he got any deeper.

“I know,” Zin said, her voice brittle. “I know you’re hung up on it. I don’t really want to define myself like that.”

It was her commencement day. The least Tennal could do was force out the word. “Sorry.”

She swallowed and tugged at one of her earlobes, making the earring chime. “No, I’m sorry. I know it’s not been—such an issue for me.” Her voice strengthened. “You look terrible, by the way.”

Tennal flicked his hair theatrically. “Oh, thanks, sis. Let me tell you, that’s not what the last five people who hit on me thought.” He aimed for the needling tone he’d always used at home. It fell flat.

Usually she’d make an exaggeratedly disgusted face and tell him he was awful, maybe shout over him to get him to stop. But she was eight months older than he’d last seen her, and all she did was look at him steadily.

“You’ve lost weight,” she said. “I’m not going to—don’t take this the wrong way, Tenn, but you look haggard.”

“Yeah? What’s the right way to take that?” Tennal said. “Can’t believe I called you just to get insulted. Worst family.”

Zin didn’t rise to the bait. “You can take it how you like,” she said quietly. Her expression was grave above her green-and-gray pre-Legal uniform. “Tenn—”

“I have to go,” Tennal said. “Someone’s coming. Too many fans, too little time. You know how it is. Speak later.”