"Good." He nods, short and emphatic, and returns his attention to what is not an the most ideal collection of implements for the intended task but is what is, regrettably, all he has available to him.

It is supremely perturbing to be addressing Asadi without the presence of her typical focus and unshakable resolve, and the silence is unnerving and his short, sharp economy of motion stills and he does not face her because he cannot face her because he cannot look at either of them just now, but the conversational vacuum is unbearable and there is something profound and unsettling that hovers outside his periphery, dense and unaddressed.

"Iman," he says, his voice level and abruptly intense. "You were successful in dismantling a government-sponsored organization in a resource-poor situation. You did what should not have been possible on both my account, and Greta's." His hands snap again over the table's edge and he leans over it and he does not look at them he looks at his tools but he does not see them he stares unwaveringly ahead. He breaks off the words in a short sequence with a low, quiet ferocity. "I intend to return that favor."