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“As well as Mal’ik and Joan.” Turner nodded.
“Oh, now that sounds like a fun bunch.” Sebastian snorted and amused himself with picturing the four of them crammed into a ship small enough to escape out of Southern Tava’s atmosphere without the Klah’Eel seeing.
Turner smiled thinly, and Sebastian knew he could see the same image in his head. “Indeed.”
Maxwell moved them on with a smile. “You’ve been working with Joan, haven’t you?”
“I have.” Turner looked away from Sebastian and smiled back at Maxwell, but the expression seemed to go through a few subtle iterations—cold, distant, overly cheery—before settling into a cool friendliness. He swallowed, and Sebastian almost laughed. He was just as uncomfortable with being here as Sebastian was with having him here. “I’ve been helping her sort through reports and draw conclusions. The Resistance’s espionage capabilities are very impressive.”
“Are you surprised?” Sebastian sipped his drink and raised an eyebrow.
Turner met his gaze evenly. “Not really. Not after what you did in Northern Tava.”
Sebastian gave him a grin that bared more teeth than necessary.
“Don’t mind Sebastian, Oliver.” Maxwell rolled his eyes. “He’s not as bloodthirsty as he’d have you think.”
“I never said I was bloodthirsty.”
“But you’ve certainly spilled a lot of blood,” Oliver said lightly before taking a sip of his drink.
Sebastian grimaced. That was true. There was a reason he had the reputation he had, regardless of whose orders he’d been acting on. He doubted all the people he’d killed much cared that he hadn’t enjoyed it. Neumann probably didn’t. The people he’d dose with fear on Hess’s orders certainly wouldn’t.
Sebastian leaned back, tossed the rest of his drink into his mouth, and enjoyed the burn of it down his throat.
“Fine. You’re right. There. We’ve all got plenty of blood on our hands.” Sebastian set his glass down, spread his fingers wide, and shook them demonstrably in front of him. “We’re all even here. Happy now, Maxwell?”
“Happy.” Maxwell chuckled. He cocked his head at Turner. “Is that why you brought the data strip to us? Are you atoning for the blood on your hands and the sins of your family?”
Sebastian scoffed before Turner could answer. “He brought us the data strip because he’s in love with one man.” He held up a single finger to drive the point home. “One man. He doesn’t get morality points for that.”
“That’s true.” Turner gave Maxwell an apologetic look. “I didn’t exactly do it for the greater good.”
“There’s something to be said for caring about a person.” Maxwell frowned and tapped his glass thoughtfully. “I think you’re better for caring about one person than not a single person at all.”
“True.” Sebastian sneered as he spun his empty glass on the table—he’d gotten the tin one. “Then you’d be just as bad as Hess.”
He stopped his spinning glass and hung his head with a groan.
He supposed it had been too much to hope he’d managed to bury that fury under alcohol and socializing already.
Turner and Maxwell exchanged a glance. A knowing glance. Sebastian frowned at them, then decided he didn’t fucking care because he didn’t fucking want to think about Hess. He pushed himself up from the table.
“I want to play darts.”
“Colin set the board up over there.” Maxwell nodded his head to a nearby corner.
Colin.
Sebastian remembered his friend’s face as the gas crept up into his nostrils and felt the pain of it in his chest. Maxwell must have seen it in his face, too, because he reached out and put a hand on Sebastian’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. Did he…make it?”
“I think so.” Sebastian nodded. “I’m pretty sure I saw him getting loaded into the back of some Klah’Eel ship.” At least, Sebastian desperately hoped it had been him.
“I’m sorry.” Maxwell squeezed his shoulder, but Sebastian shook his head.
He shrugged Maxwell’s hand off. “Whatever. Come on, you’re playing darts with me.”
“I’ll watch from here,” Turner said with a distrustful glance at the board.
