He smiles faintly, an uncertain, vaguely mystified twisting of his expression. He returns to walking beside her, hand sliding away to drop to his side in an abrupt release of that slow build of unbearable, inescapable pressure.

"Yes, I've learned that is to be expected," he answers wryly. "Between us both and our proclivities for isolationist decision-making, we do make quite the destructive vector."

He refuses to examine whatever unendurable, immaterial point he had been formerly building toward. Asadi diverted its course, whether unknowingly or otherwise.

Not to be forgotten in the ensuing quiet, Arista speaks again.

"Do be careful," she says in a tone of bizarrely matter-of-fact, withering concern. "We would hate to lose someone with which we can hold a decent conversation."