Several hours after Nora's trial run, Dyasen was still trying to figure out why he felt so conflicted.

Sure, the conversation with Jade beforehand hadn't gone perfectly, but it wasn't the end of the world, either. The bodyguard had seemed more concerned for him than anything else. Apparently, she thought that his recent lack of focus—as well as the time he'd accidentally addressed Pepperjack aloud—were indications that he was losing control over his ERA. It was actually a reasonable conclusion, since he had made that sort of mistake in the past, but that didn't make him feel any better about it. Especially because he still didn't know how to explain why she was wrong.

Come to think of it, there wasn't any particular reason why he shouldn't tell the team about Pepperjack. In fact, Miracca would probably want to know about them, and potentially investigate what they were and if they needed to be dealt with a certain way. But maybe that was why Dyasen was reluctant; even though he knew next to nothing about Pepperjack, the idea of putting them in potential danger didn't sit well with him.

Then, there was Nora's treatment of Hexis—the way she interacted with them like they were something less than human. Dyasen knew the girl didn't mean it in a deliberately hurtful way, but her casual disgust toward someone he considered a close friend still didn't sit well with him.

In a way, it felt like his fault. He'd been the one to introduce Nora and Hexis. He'd decided that Nora would be able to work with the other members of the team. He'd failed to consider that meeting an assassin right after they killed someone important to you wasn't likely to inspire warm feelings.

Dyasen let out a long breath, rubbing his forehead. His other hand squeezed the wood of his desk chair as if the anchor could steady his thoughts. I have no idea how to deal with people, he complained silently.

No response. He didn't know whether he'd expected one or not.

I should have stood up for Hexis. I should have told Nora she was being rude. She's my responsibility. But instead, Jade had to do it, just because I can't figure out how to say what I'm thinking out loud.

Groaning, he leaned back, tracking his gaze up the blank wall in front of him. A tiny spider had just started constructing its web in the corner of the ceiling; the palace servants would clear it out later.

"That sounds like a lot to think about." Pepperjack's voice was quiet, timid.

Dyasen took a breath and let it hiss out between clenched teeth. He should have been relieved to hear the voice, but instead, the guilt that had accumulated while ignoring them settled like a rock in his chest.

"Yeah, it is," he responded finally.

"Is that why you were ignoring me?"

"Yeah. No. Hold on." Dyasen squeezed his eyes shut, trying to fill his head with silence.

"I need to apologize somehow," he told the spider on the wall. "And it needs to be genuine. And I can't blame what's going on outside for the fact that I've been an asshole to Pepperjack again."

"Okay," he thought. "Yes, all of this has been a lot. I've probably used more people skills in the past week than I have in the rest of my life combined. But that's not a good reason to ignore you. To be honest, I was just nervous because I offended you, and I didn't know how to apologize. But that just made it worse."

He knew he was rambling now, but it all felt like things he needed to say.

"Yeah, it did kind of make it worse," Pepperjack agreed, but they sounded more contemplative than angry—like they hadn't understood why the interaction had spiraled the way it did. "I'll forgive you though, if you talk to me again. But..." There was a long pause. "If it happens too much, we may have to stop talking." They said it like they were trying desperately to sound authoritative.

Dyasen bit his lip, the spider's movements fading into a blur. Pepperjack's ultimatum was completely fair, but it was also obvious that they would never actually act on it. They had made it clear that he was the only person they could talk to—maybe their only link to the physical world at all, as far as he knew—and that made him too valuable for them to push him away.

It was yet another responsibility that he hadn't asked for and didn't want to deal with.

"That's fair," he thought to them. "I can't promise that I'll never offend you again, but if I do...please tell me, and I promise I'll listen and try to be better. And if I don't, you can remind me that I said this. And..." He cut himself off, letting the silence sweep in again. For now, that was the best he could do. He just needed to keep his promise going forward.

"Okay, sounds like a deal," Pepperjack responded, sounding relieved.

"Great." Dyasen took another deep breath, feeling relief spread through him as well. The voice was surprisingly easy to deal with—much easier than certain others in the physical world around him.

That didn't mean he could just ignore them, though.

Finally, he pushed himself to his feet, rolling his shoulders and sending a series of pops down his spine.

Hexis' room was just down the hall from his own. They both lived on the top floor of the palace—save from the watchtowers where Kynar resided—where they were less likely to run into palace guests. Dyasen stopped for a second outside, then clenched his fist and banged it against the wooden door.

"Hello?" Hexis' muffled voice responded.

"It's Dyasen. Can I come in?"

"Yeah, sure." They sounded indifferent.

Dyasen opened the door to see them stretched out on their bed with their head at the foot and their feet propped up on the headboard. They were still wearing their full outfit, except for their daggers, which were strewn carelessly across the floor of the room. Given the almost obsessive tidiness of the rest of the room, it looked like they'd thrown them.

Dyasen slipped into the room and gently closed the door behind him. He picked up both daggers, making sure they were fully sheathed before setting them in their usual place on the desk in the corner. Hexis' copper eyes watched him the entire time.

Finally, the other mercenary spoke up. "Can I complain for a second before you cheer me up?"

Dyasen raised his eyebrows. "Someone has high expectations." He grabbed the back of the desk chair and dragged it over to the bed, then sat down and leaned forward so his forearms rested on his knees. "What's up?"

They closed their eyes. "Look. I can see that Nora is a good fit for our team. I told her that myself. And I understand why she doesn't trust me. But if she could be a little less...smug about it..." They huffed out a breath. "It's like she thinks she's better than everyone else, just because she doesn't like me."

Dyasen pressed his tongue against his cheek, trying to think of how to respond. "I don't think she thinks she's better than anyone," he started, then quickly added, "not that you're wrong for feeling that way, I mean..."

Hexis opened their eyes and gave him an amused glance.

Dear world, at least I'm trying. He let out a breath. "I've seen Nora adapt to new situations. She's smart, and she figures things out quickly. I bet that once she realizes you're a good person, you'll get along great. But, if you don't think she can..." He closed his eyes, dreading what he was about to say. "You can always tell Miracca it's not going to work."

"Okay, relax," Hexis told him, prompting him to open his eyes again. "I'm not trying to get Nora outed from the team. As I've said, she could be really, really helpful. I just..." They shrugged, further wrinkling the bedsheet beneath them. "If you ever get an opportunity to show her some of my good side, it'd be great if you took it."

Dyasen nodded, more relieved than he wanted to admit. "Yeah, of course." After a second, he added, "Sorry I didn't stand up for you before, and Jade had to do it."

"It's alright," they said, waving a hand. "I know how badly you want this whole thing to work out. And Jade didn't exactly help either," they added in a quieter voice.

Dyasen furrowed his brow, genuinely perplexed. "Why not?"

They took a long, slow breath. "All she did was tell Nora not to call me an assassin. Which is maybe the stupidest thing I've ever heard." They jerked a handful of the bedsheet into a fist. "Because I am an assassin, and pretending otherwise will not change anything."

"You're not just an assassin, though," Dyasen protested. "I have brown hair, but no one goes around saying, 'For a guy with brown hair, you have a good sense of humor'."

Finally, a small smirk crossed their face. "Your sense of humor is more arid than CaSaryn's climate."

"Hey!"

They chuckled, swinging themself up to a sitting position and running a hand over their slightly-flattened hair. "I get what you mean, even if that was a terrible example."

"Look, I'm trying," Dyasen grumbled. "Come on, do you want to go to the market for lunch-"

A knock on the door interrupted them.

"Hello?" Hexis called.

"Lord Cansedara?"

Hexis rolled their eyes at the title. "You can come in."

A servant poked his head through the door. His eyes landed on Dyasen and brightened. "And Lord Nosvyenar! The Sheer would like to see you in her throne room immediately."

All of Dyasen's nervousness came rushing back. As the servant closed the door, he glanced at Hexis, who had their eyebrows raised at him.

"Alright," he said before he could think of a way to get out of it. "Let's go make a decision."