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“Yes.”

“You guess often.”

“I notice things.”

“So you keep reminding me,” he said.

I watched him for a moment. “You don’t talk about the Veil like something you chose because you loved it.”

His gaze sharpened.

I continued before he could shut the conversation down. “But when you talk about being a warrior, you sound different.”

“I do not.”

“You do.”

“How?”

“You sound like you belonged somewhere.”

That stopped him. Completely.

I watched his face. I had learned that silence could mean many things with Veyr. This one felt dangerous.

I softened my voice. “You had people.”

His eyes dropped to the table. “Yes.”

Finally. A real answer.

Not operational. Not classified. Not extracted from him through argument.

Given.

I leaned forward slightly. “Your unit?”

“Yes.”

“Friends?”

He took longer with that. “Some.”

The word felt smaller than it should have. I did not push.

He continued on his own. “I trained with several of them for years.”

I stayed quiet.

“They knew how I fought before I moved.” His gaze had gone distant, not far, just somewhere else. “Who hesitated under pressure. Who did not. Who needed a command repeated. Who would ignore one if they believed someone else was in danger.”

A faint line of memory moved across his face. “We knew each other’s weaknesses.”

“Sounds close.”

“It was functional.”

I almost smiled. “Of course it was.”