“Yes. Don’t you see, Tom? What happened at the meet and greets was ages ago. You’ve had a life-changing, near-death experience, and you’ve lost a . . .” He didn’t mention Yuri in front of Wyatt. “You’ve had other things happen. You can legitimately claim to have gained some wisdom, some insight. If you apologize to the CEOs formally, maybe in a handwritten note on some decent stationery, they might be persuaded to give you a second chance.”

Elliot said this so earnestly, but Tom found himself remembering Dalton’s smug smile when he offered him the chance to get on his knees and make up for his wrongdoing.

“Right,” Tom snarled. “Then they can frame my handwritten apology on fancy paper on the wall. Oh, and maybe add me to some other terror watch lists. What stops that, huh?”

“That’s the chance you take,” Elliot informed him. “But your best opportunity lies in penitence. Believe it or not, an apology might—”

“Give them a huge power trip?” Tom exploded, suddenly, unexpectedly furious, like some dam had burst. “Make them feel like they’ve broken me like some sort of animal? I would rather freeze to death than give them the satisfaction!”

“And here you go again,” Elliot marveled. “What does it serve, letting them know at every possible opportunity how much you despise them? That hasn’t gotten you anywhere. Just look closer to home—at Karl Marsters!”

“No way.” Tom slashed his hand through the air. “Karl is not my fault. Karl has been after me since I got here.”

“That’s not how Karl sees it and it’s not how I see it.”

“Fine. Fine, then explain. Tell me why Karl wanting to pulverize me is my fault.”

Elliot leaned toward him. “You really wonder why Karl hates you? The first day you got here, you punched him in front of everyone.”

“I was under the influence of a computer virus,” Tom protested. “Blackburn said so, too!”

“Yes, Lieutenant Blackburn said so. In a way that shamed Karl for getting the slip from a trainee half his size. ‘Twice,’ I believe he said. What do you think Karl felt?”

“Malice and homicidal urges, like Karl always does.”

“Humiliated, Tom. It hurt his pride.”

“What, so Karl went crying to you about this?”

Elliot tapped his temple. “Photographic recollection. I can reason the rest out.”

“He tried to beat me up a few days later, so he got his own back,” Tom groused.

“I’m sure he tried, but I’m also sure he didn’t pull it off,” Elliot said. “I am very certain Karl’s never come out the winner with you, because if Karl had ever, even once, come away from a skirmish as the victor over you, he would’ve patched that gaping hole you’ve torn into his pride and left you alone a long time ago.”