“Crush him?” Her words made Stacia blink hard, like she’d been swatted on the nose.

“It’s taken him so long to fit in.” Dina settled into the crook of Stacia’s arm, which had been resting along the back of the couch. Stacia continued to comfort her. The way she would any friend.

“Only because he came at things like a bull trying to buck the past from his back.” Stacia’s voice remained low, trying not to break the spell of the moment.

“I know. I know. That’s his way. Like how they train us in university. There’s so much that’s different here.” Dina spent so much time being educated at O.E. schools, she still struggled with how to simply be herself. Coming from a military family, Dina claimed a long matriarchal lineage of leadership. Between that and having grown up in a religious household—not to mention graduating from LISC Corps—all she learned was a structured and rigid way of thinking. Her biggest obstacle was unlearning some of the unhealthier aspects of her training. “But the investigation, trusting him with it, means a lot. That you have confidence in him with us.”

“I always had. He wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. I’ve told him that countless times. And you.”

“I know. It’s just, because of the investigation, he’s gotten so secretive, though.”

“It’s the job. You both have to deal with a lot of sensitive issues. Sometimes from each other. It’s strictly a security matter.” Stacia shifted slightly, noting Dina’s warmth. “I know the toll phrases like Code Black / Eyes Only or high-level encryption protocols can take on a relationship. So much so, I almost don’t know if I’m the right person to dispense any advice on this topic. Given my lack of success.”

“No, I really appreciate anything you have to say about it. I really do. It’s just … when he runs off to his ‘previous’ meetings…”

“His what?” Stacia stiffened. Something about the phrasing jabbed her ear.

“He calls them his previous meetings. Like they were in the past and he didn’t have to do any more. It’s why he doesn’t log them through Maya.”

“That’s cute.” Stacia allowed the word to trail off as she thought. Scrambled communiqués were actually more work. The kind of effort someone would go through when they wanted to leave no official record of their transmissions. But perhaps exhaustion and stress (and Dina’s warmth) made her paranoid. Or more acutely aware. Stacia extricated herself from their position, raising her glass in an offer to pour Dina a drink as she refilled her own. “It requires a … glyph. Internal use only.”

“I hadn’t heard of it.” Dina gestured for another drink.