"I don't know."
Kamal did not answer immediately.
That, too, was old.
Kamal had never been the sort of man who filled silence simply because it existed. He let it sit when it deserved to sit. He let it become uncomfortable when discomfort was the point. Across from him, beyond the neat line of porcelain and silver, Arik looked too young for the exhaustion in his eyes and too ancient for the careful stillness of his hands.
Eventually, Kamal said, "That is also different."
Arik's gaze shifted back to him.
"Is it?"
"Yes." Kamal lifted his tea again. "He would have claimed certainty even when there was none."
Arik's mouth curved faintly. "Goliath was often certain."
"Goliath was often unbearable."
"But also right."
Kamal's expression remained composed, but the edge of fondness lingered there, dry and well-hidden beneath old professionalism. "You admit uncertainty more easily."
"I admit uncertainty because Liam is involved."
"An effective corrective force, then."
