Byerly is not someone who takes particularly well to kindnesses. Nor is he someone who likes seeing sneaking and subtlety. It's a little bit his profession: any credulity he'd had as a younger man was firmly trained out of him by his spymaster, replaced with skepticism that borders on paranoia. It's also a little bit his personality, because there hadn't been much credulity to begin with. You don't live a life like Byerly's and come away with a lot of trust.

"It is not my habit," By says, his voice bone-dry, "to drink beverages of unknown provenance." He lays a hand on the hot cup of coffee he's been brought, and looks at Cole, and says, "Particularly not when they come from boys who look half-mad."