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“Better.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Actual answer.”

“Regeneration is progressing.”

“Slowly.”

His gaze shifted toward the medical display. “Slower than it should.”

“You should have told me your healing was impaired.”

“I should have.”

The easy admission stopped me.

No defense. No excuse. Just acceptance.

I leaned back slightly. “You’re getting annoyingly good at that.”

“At what?”

“Not arguing when I’m right.”

His mouth shifted. “I still disagree with you frequently.”

“Good. I’d worry otherwise.”

The almost-smile stayed a little longer.

My gaze dropped to his hand resting beside him.

Long fingers. Scars across the knuckles.

Hands built for weapons, violence, and keeping things away from him.

I thought about lunch.

Ryleigh.

Children.

Bad coffee.

Rain.

A future assembled from things nobody had planned.

I looked at Veyr. “Do you ever think about what happens after this?”

His gaze sharpened. “I do.”

My pulse changed. “What?”

He was quiet for a moment. “I do not know yet.”

“That’s not much of an answer.”

“It is the truth.”