Surit must have imagined the way Tennal’s expression flattened, because he could have sworn none of his facial muscles moved. Tennal’s arm came up. The salute was so bad that it would have been funny, if Surit’s nerves hadn’t been jangling like storm warnings.

The commander snorted. “So we’ll all get some amusement value out of this. Three days, Yeni. Did the priming not work?”

At the key moment, the enormity of the lie stuck in Surit’s throat. He couldn’t find an answer.

Tennal’s gaze flickered to him with irritation, but it was all gone again the next second. “Lieutenant Yeni has completed the sync, sir.”

Surit wasn’t an actor. On the other hand, he knew he wasn’t expressive either. He concentrated on maintaining military poise and fixed his eyes on the corridor behind the commander. “Agent Fifty-Six was recovering from mood-altering drugs. I don’t think his withdrawal symptoms will be a problem now that the sync is active.”

Tennal picked it up seamlessly. “I’m cooperating. It was just the soothers. There’s no need to write me. I’d be more cooperative if I had my possessions back, though, and while I’m making requests, an encrypted comms channel to talk to my family would also be nice. If you’re asking.”

That was a cue. Don’t try and ham it up, Tennal had warned, a sentence that had never been said to Surit before in his life. Surit glanced at Tennal and said flatly, “Agent Fifty-Six.”

He wasn’t sure what Tennal had planned—walking it back, maybe, to prove to the commander that something had changed. Instead Tennal shifted on his feet, his back straightening as if someone had lifted him at the shoulders. His head tilted back, as if unconsciously, and his eyes flickered shut. He frowned for an instant before his forehead smoothed out. When he opened his eyes again, his shoulders relaxed, and his gaze went straight to Surit’s face as if drawn there. His expression was calm and empty.

That was what Tennal looked like when he was written, Surit realized. He’d been so lost in Tennal’s mind the only time he’d actually written him that he hadn’t looked at Tennal at all. It was fake: Surit knew he hadn’t written him, and the commander was neutral, but Tennal acted it out so naturally that he must know the feeling as well as he knew his own breathing. Surit found a knot forming in his stomach.

“My apologies, sir,” Tennal said calmly. He turned his gaze to the wall in front of him.

Surit tried to look as if he’d expected that.