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I wait for more. Nothing. "That's it?"

"No."

"Helpful."

He looks annoyed. Then thinks. "Imagine someone opening a door inside your head." I immediately remember Blood Echo. The connection between us. Not the same. Still. I understand doors that aren't physical.

"And?"

"Then finding something on the other side that was already waiting." That is strangely beautiful.

"He chose you."

"Yes."

"And you chose him."

Rhyven looks toward the repaired harness. "Eventually."

I smile. "After vomiting twice."

"Go home."

"We live in the same building."

"Then go upstairs."

"No."

The clock reads twelve forty. We have been here almost two hours. Neither has trained. I look toward him. "Does everyone think you're fearless?"

Rhyven's eyebrow lifts. "Do they?"

"Yes."

"Stupid."

"Probably."

"Fear keeps people alive."

"You say that like you like it."

"No."

"Then?"

"It gives information." Of course. Dragon body language. Combat. People. Everything is information to him.

"So you're afraid often?"

He looks toward me. "Constantly." There it is again.

The joke. Except now I know it isn't entirely one.

"Of what?" I ask. His gaze stays on mine. For one second too long. No. I'm not doing this.

Then Rhyven looks away. "Being wrong." There. Safe answer. True answer. Maybe not complete. Enough.