It’s as neat and clean an exchange as Kit could have hoped for. It also gently breaks his heart anew in a way he’d not been expecting.

“Right,” he replies, voice faint, then clears his throat again, repeats himself more confidently, “right.” He takes the hurt and tucks it away, struggles to ignore the deep fingers of it still gripping tight on his heart. I loved you, he could have said, and it would have been true, but it would do no good now. Why drag this out? Why linger here hoping for something that’s gone?

Absently, he rests his hand atop Vandelin’s desk, then straightens up. “All right, well just—let me know if anything good comes of it. Or give it to Scoutmaster Ashara.” A pause; he can’t look at him again. Then, quietly, “see you around, salroka.” He turns to leave.