Alaric
Bear's concern, once he'd let the confession settle, wasn't the reaction I'd braced for.
"I'm not worried about you liking him," he said, leaning back in his chair. "I've watched you make harder calls than that. I'm worried about optics, and I'm worried about whatever it is he's not telling either of us."
"You think he's hiding something."
"I think everybody's hiding something, King. Question's whether it's the kind that matters." He studied me a long moment. "You care about him enough to have stopped asking that question. I haven't."
*[He's not wrong to worry,]* Rook admitted, quieter than usual.
*I know.*
I didn't have a clean answer for Bear, mostly because some part of me had, in fact, stopped asking the harder questions weeks ago, content to let whatever Finch wasn't tel
