What a peculiar indulgence it is — of the comfortable, he thinks, of the well protected — to let oneself be soft. Or is this the hairline fracture of a weak point, an echo of a past blow, that takes the volume from his voice? Hard to imagine an Altus scion being allowed to be noncompetitive.

It's unwise to bare a flaw to him. More still, to let his own cautious calculations see the light of day. Instead Caius leans back, opening up the air between them literally as much as figuratively.

"I'll take your word on it for now." He'll see for himself soon enough.