I don’t give a shit if you touch my icon, Tennal nearly said, but he found he did. He got up and shifted the picture to the side of the niche, leaving Surit room for the heater and the miniature books he seemed to want to stack.

“Thank you,” Surit said. “Do you mind incense for a moment?”

Tennal shrugged. Surit hesitated, then sat cross-legged in front of the niche and shut his eyes.

Tennal sat on the edge of his bed and watched him meditate. Tennal’s skin was still prickling. His clothes felt too rough. The thin mist that came out of Surit’s incense heater smelled of wood smoke and greenery. Surit’s back was ramrod straight, but as an hour ticked on, and then another, eventually the line of his muscles relaxed.

Tennal fought down a spike of white-hot envy and lay back on the bed, rolling over to face the wall.

He didn’t sleep that night. Surit slept like the dead, a motionless lump on the other bed.

The next day Surit left for breakfast and brought back another pointless ration pack. “We’re nearing the fleet rendezvous,” he said, apparently under the misguided impression that Tennal might want to know. “The rest of the expedition ships are already collecting at the edge of chaotic space. We’ll catch up with them in forty-eight hours.”

Tennal didn’t answer. Surit didn’t make another attempt. Instead he left again for his exercise routine, then later for his chores. He returned just as Tennal was coming out of the bathroom after dealing with his soother hangover.

Surit didn’t comment then, but the next time Tennal had to get up, he found Surit filling the bathroom door behind him. Tennal drew a unit of water and washed his mouth before deliberately turning around.

“Are you all right?” Surit said. “Is this substance withdrawal?”

“It’s a hangover,” Tennal said, then realized it probably was soother withdrawal. He hadn’t noticed because he was too hung up on the sync. No wonder he felt so spectacularly bad.

Surit was eyeing him with that small frown which was the only expression he ever seemed to wear around Tennal. “I could ask Medical for a withdrawal shot.”

The priming itch in the back of Tennal’s brain tingled, and he flinched. “No more shots.”

Surit apparently remembered their conversation in the lift, because he gave a slow nod. “Painkillers?”

Painkillers wouldn’t do anything. “Sure you don’t just want to sync me?” Tennal said. “I hear if you go deep enough, you might be able to share what I’m physically feeling. There’s a treat for you.”

“No,” Surit said, brutally short. He took a breath, then said, much more evenly, “I’m sorry. I’m snappish.”