He's - exhausted from not sleeping, and heartsick, and he wants to sneak away and hide with Horseriver, in his room that's all velvet and flagstones and like nowhere else he's ever been. Horseriver knows how to be near him without making him talk about anything. They know how to be old and ruined around each other.

Holden's trying to be nice.

He is being nice. Jedao doesn't know why the smell - not exactly familiar, but recognizable enough - makes him feel like a first year going through design critique, makes him want to grit his teeth and blank his face and nod earnestly, shrinking and flinching inside. Why did he even say anything about the stupid bread? It's fine. It doesn't matter.

"It wasn't a big deal," he says, and doesn't let himself mutter or look away like a sloppy cadet. "But you're welcome."