“I will regret leaving Rhodes’ element,” Callum added at a murmur, “if only because that will no longer be true.”
Tristan gave a reluctant sort of smirk, as if principles of moral superiority had compelled him not to laugh, but only just. “You really don’t like her, do you?”
“Some people are flawed and interesting,” Callum said with a shrug. “Others are just flawed.”
“Remind me not to ask you what you think of me,” Tristan said.
“Actually,” Callum said, “I rather think you should.”
Tristan said nothing.
“I know you’re very suspicious of me,” Callum said, before amending, “Of everyone.”
“I find people to be largely disappointing,” Tristan commented.
“Interestingly, so do I.”
“Is that considered interesting?”
“Well, seeing that my specialty requires me to grasp most details of human nature, yes, I think so,” Callum said. “Knowing what I know, I should really find other people fascinating, or at least valuable.”
“And do you?”
“Some. Most, I find, are just replicas of others.”
“Do you prefer good people,” Tristan asked tangentially, “or bad?”
“I like to have a bit of both. Discord,” Callum replied. “You’re a prime example.”
“Am I?”
“You want to be loyal to Parisa, which is interesting,” Callum observed, as Tristan gave a little involuntary twitch of acknowledgement. “For a woman you slept with once, you seem to feel you owe her something. Same with Rhodes.”
Tristan blanched. “I hardly think they’re the same category.”
“Oh, they’re not,” Callum agreed. “You feel you owe Rhodes your life. Parisa you simply want to owe your life to.”
“Do I?”
“Yes. And you want very badly to mistrust me on her behalf.” Callum gave Tristan another wary smile. “Unfortunately, you also find me appealing.”
“In what way?”
“Nearly all of them,” Callum said, adding with a glance between them, “You’re not alone in that.”
Tristan was silent another moment.
“You seem to have done something to Parisa,” he noted, and Callum sighed.
“Yes, I do seem to, don’t I? Pity. I like her.”
“What did you do? Insult her?”
“Not that I know of,” Callum said, though the real answer was no, he had not insulted her. He had scared her, which was the only sensation Parisa Kamali could not abide. “But I think perhaps she’ll come around.” She was the sort of person who would always do what was best for herself, even if it took her some time to puzzle it out.
“You don’t concern yourself much with being liked, do you?” Tristan asked, half-amused.
“No, I don’t.” Doubtful Tristan would be capable of understanding that, but the sensation of being liked was extraordinarily dull. It was the closest thing to vanilla that Callum could think of, though nothing was truly comparable. Being feared was a bit like anise, like absinthe. A strange and arousing flavor. Being admired was golden, maple-sweet. Being despised was a woodsy, sulfuric aroma, smoke in his nostrils; something to choke on, when done properly. Being envied was tart, a citrusy tang, like green apple.
Being desired was Callum’s favorite. That was smoky, too, in a sense, but more sultry, cloaked and perfumed in precisely what it was. It smelled like tangled bedsheets. It tasted like the flicker of a candle flame. It felt like a sigh, a quiet one; concessionary and pleading. He could always feel it on his skin, sharp as a blade. Piercing, like the groan of a lover in his ear.
“Being liked is fairly ordinary, I’m afraid,” Callum said. “Intensely commonplace.”
“How unimpressive,” Tristan said drily.
“Oh, it can be helpful at times. But I certainly don’t aim for it.”
“How exactly do you plan to avoid being eliminated, then?”
“Well,” said Callum patiently, “for one thing, you won’t let it happen.”
Tristan raised a hand to release a scoff into his palm, curling his fingers around it. “And how won’t I?”
“Rhodes listens to you. Varona listens to her. And Reina listens to him.”
Tristan arched a brow. “So your presumption about me is…？”
“That you will not want to eliminate me.” Callum smiled again. “It’s really quite simple, don’t you think?”