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Cecina was sitting right there, facing Piran. She didn't turn around.

Hrvalye's stomach turned leaden and dropped as he stood there dumbfounded. He'd also forgotten to exhale before walking in, and air began escaping from his half-open mouth with an involuntarily vocalized high-pitched sigh. It took him a couple of seconds to realize what was happening and put a stop to it.

Piran looked like he wanted to be amused, with his bushy black eyebrows arched upward like he was holding in a laugh, but his demeanor otherwise remained serious as he gestured with his dark eyes to the empty chair next to Cecina. Hrvalye shut the door before stuttering to the chair and clumsily flopping down, too scared to look anywhere but at Piran's face.

Piran had about fifteen years on Cecina and Hrvalye, but it showed less in his face and more in the length and thickness of his bronze horns and the rectangular spectacles resting fashionably on his long snout. Hrvalye always wondered how much money and effort Piran spent to take care of his face, decorated as it was with but a few distinguished wrinkles and scrupulously manicured brown hair, which was carefully shaped to flatter his unusually strong cheekbones and his luxuriant, slickly waxed full-chin beard. He didn't look young, but he did look good.

Hrvalye himself still looked kind of youthful, but the future didn't really look bright; he'd seen pictures of his father from when he was but a few years older than Hrvalye now, and he was not a pretty man (though he was said to have lovely feet). His dad didn't live the easiest life, but he was also a fast ager. It would be interesting to see how Hrvalye stacked up to his old man and Piran when he hit those milestones--if they made it that long.

Mm.

Piran set his elbows on the desk and clasped his hands in front of his chin, partially obscuring his impressive beard. He spoke with the generic Pacific Coast accent that they all learned for its simplicity and universal use throughout the US--just a little different somehow. Maybe because he was older and he learned the dialect from a different source than Cecina and Hrvalye. Really, it probably sounds normal to everyone else. "You sounded nervous on the phone, so I decided I should talk to Cecina myself." He turned his face slightly in her direction to see if she wanted to chime in.

She did. She turned her head to Hrvalye, keeping the rest of her body still. Hrvalye had to make a conscious effort to avoid even glancing at her horns. Keep your eyes lowered. Look at her face.

"Why did you tell him, Hrvalye?" she asked, her voice an astonishing manifestation of swirling, conflicting emotions, reined-in by a master wrangler. Her eyes had shifted darker since this morning, penetrating his soul with their ardent intensity. It was a marvel, but this wasn't the time or place for marveling.

"I..." he felt such deep regret, "I'm sorry. I panicked." He wanted to tell her that he was terrified of what would happen after she simply walked out of the locker room with him on the ground begging her to not hate him. He knew that 'sorry' was trite, almost meaningless. "I was inconsiderate. I was obsessed with answering for what I said."

"Do you want to be punished, Hrvalye?" she asked, the shifting tone of her eyes and her false smile highlighting the disbelief in her voice. "Do you want me to be punished, to suffer?"

"Cecina, I'm--I don't have good words for this," he gave a sidelong glance to Piran to quash the question forming in his mind, "In any language." He focused back on Cecina. "What happened is a haze to me, but I feel guilty. So maybe I did want to be punished. But I also wanted to have a say in how things played out, and I wanted to be proactive. I wasn't thinking about what it would mean if I was the one to open the can of worms." He wanted to go into more detail, tell her how broken he felt in the locker room and at the hospital, but he was already extremely uncomfortable with how far things had gone in front of Piran. At least he was expressing himself better now that he was saying it all out loud.

After a beat, Piran stepped back in, "I don't want to talk about the details because Cecina doesn't want to talk about the details. She has made clear to me that she will have no problem continuing to work with you as we prepare to go to Earth. I'll let the two of you work out any personal matters as you see fit. Now, for the coming cycle," he sighed, "You are both aware that we were considering pairing you two as spouses or family. I think it would be best for us not to do that." He paused to allow Hrvalye and Cecina to react. Neither said anything. He nodded to Cecina, "Anything else you want to say in this room?"

It looked like Cecina had plenty left to say, but after a few moments she took a deep breath and shook her head. "Not right now, no."

"Then you're free to go. Thanks for sitting with me." He looked back to Hrvalye, "Tarry a moment, if you please."

Cecina rose from her seat, nodding to Piran. She turned to regard Hrvalye, pursing her lips slightly backwards so that the edges were between her teeth. It was a pensive look, but it only lasted for half a second. "I'll see you around, Hrvalye."

"See you," he responded reflexively as she walked out of the office and shut the door behind her. Normally she would have called him 'Hervie' back there. It would have been incongruous with the situation, but he really wished she'd done it anyway. It would mean everything would be okay, that he didn't make things weird.

"So," said Piran, jerking Hrvalye back to the conversation, "Cecina didn't tell me much, and I didn't want to drag her through it. But I need you to tell me honestly, right now, first," he raised his thumb to start a count, "Did you touch her inappropriately?" Wow, he just jumped straight into that! His voice was clipped and stern, and it was clear what he wanted to hear, but equally clear that he needed the real truth.

Hrvalye blinked, "No."

Piran raised his index finger, "Did you threaten her in any way?"

Hrvalye quickly and narrowly shook his head, shocked that this was even on the table.

Piran's thick middle finger, "Did you attempt to coerce her to take or not take any action?" Again, Hrvalye shook his head, just as narrowly, but a little less quickly. He thought he knew what the last one would be.

And finally, Piran's pinky, "Did you sexually harass her or make inappropriate remarks of a sexual nature?"

Ding ding ding. "Yyyyyyes," he said, dragging out the beginning of the word in his disgrace. Horns weren't exactly sexual, but especially in Arvanyan culture they were wrapped into that category for legal purposes; everyone here had been raised with that understanding. Sometimes visitors to Arvanya didn't realize this, coming from cultures where it was okay to say a variety of things about horns and the bresh generally, and nearly everyone Hrvalye knew had heard a foreigner innocently utter something that would make a prudish Arvanyan blush. It was to be expected. But Arvanyan to Arvanyan, those casual comments can cut deep; hence their inclusion in workplace sexual harassment prohibitions.

And it just so happens that Hrvalye is a tail and horns guy. So, there's that.

Piran closed his eyes and took a breath. "I'm very sorry to hear that." His computer screen was projected on the wall beside his desk, but he tapped a few buttons on the pad in front of him to switch to private viewing. He continued to tap as he talked, "Were there any mitigating circumstances?"

Hrvalye nodded even though Piran wasn't looking at him, "I had just dislocated my shoulder and was shot up with what the doctor said was a large dose of morphine. I know it's no excuse, but--"

Piran interrupted, raising his hand like a stop sign, "You don't need to tell me what is and isn't an excuse. What I actually need is a real assessment of your mental state. Who saw you at the hospital?"

"Doctor, um, Something Trvencha."

"Trvencha," muttered Piran as he typed. "Gaspiar Trvencha..." After a moment, he pulled a softpad out of the air and affixed it to his desk in front of Hrvalye. He continued with his unusually stern, businesslike tone, "Please read that over. If you wish to consent to having Dr. Trvencha share his expert opinion, mark your print. If not, I will put an anonymous citation in your employee record so that we can protect others from you without sacrificing Cecina's privacy further." Hrvalye blinked--that was unexpectedly harsh. Piran continued seamlessly, "There would be unverified mitigating circumstances, which would make it less damning, but your standing will tarnish, your trustworthiness will be questioned, and we won't be assigning you any kind of partner until at least your third cycle on Earth, assuming we get that far."

Hrvalye was struck mute. He pretended to read the disclosure form in front of him while Piran sat there expectantly, first pretending to be conducting important business on his computer, then softly rapping the hoofy fingerbacks of one hand against his desk in a gradually increasing rhythm. Eventually he spoke again, his voice softening a little from before, "If we get a professional determination from Dr. Trvencha that you were not in control of your actions at the time of your remark, you'll still get a citation but the consequences will be much less severe, as it would mostly just be reference material if a new allegation were to come to light. That's your choice. Additionally, Cecina has the choice of whether we investigate for potential disciplinary action. It sounds like she doesn't want to do that, but if she changes her mind, the doctor's statement would help there as well."

Hrvalye silently pressed his thumb against the softpad before Piran finished the last sentence, then tapped his personal confirmation sequence to dismiss it from semi-corporeal existence. He leaned back in his chair, defeated but relieved. His brain now seemed to focus more on the pain in his shoulder. He welcomed that, in a self-flagellating way. "Thanks, Piran."

Piran leaned back in his chair, the shape of his expression relaxing slightly as he put his arms on his armrests in a Captain Picard-like manner. "She's been a good friend to you, Hrvalye. Be careful, okay? And be considerate."

Hrvalye nodded, casting his eyes downward in a mix of shame and regret.

"We haven't known each other long, but I trusted you, and I still trust you." Now that things were a little less tense, the quirkiness of Piran's accent shined through a little more. "You are knowledgeable, you are quick, and you approach this entire mission with humility. You are a valuable asset to me and this team."

This was too much for Hrvalye. A tear fell from his eye before he realized it, then another as he bowed his head and blinked. Why am I so emotional? I never cry; I never feel the need to. Is the mission getting to me? Is it the morphine? Well, maybe. "That's too generous, Piran," he said, choking up, his neck still bent down. He raised his hand to his face, soaking his thumb and forefinger as they reached his eyes. Dammit. "I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Your arm is in a sling, you're probably still affected by the morphine, and you feel guilty about something stupid that you evidently said. It's okay to cry." He reached behind him to grab a tissue from a bookshelf and passed it to Hrvalye, "Here."

Hrvalye took the tissue once he realized what was happening and dabbed his eyes with it. He was glad he didn't have time to put on eyeliner this morning, though that would actually have been more problematic when he was bawling in the locker room than it would be now with this puny trickle. God, I would have looked like a fucking raccoon.

They sat there in silence. Piran looked very much unsure of what to do, but after a couple of minutes passed he settled on very quietly using his computer while Hrvalye kept his head lowered.

Hrvalye's thoughts were a blur. Hazy flashes from the locker room, from dinners, game days, movie nights with Cecina. He wondered whether he could never go skydiving now that he had a dislocated shoulder--he read somewhere that that was a thing. He worried about what would happen on Earth.

He never made any mental preparations to go there alone; he always expected he'd have a friend, and as crunch time approached, he took for granted that it would be Cecina, never truly believing there was a chance that wouldn't happen.

Sure, he would still have contacts among the lerian Interfacers in America and elsewhere, probably including Cecina, but they would be infrequent and at odd intervals. And yes, there were protocols for making close human friends, but friendships aren't often built to spec, and even if he got lucky he would lose that person when his cycle was over. On the plus side, because he'd have even fewer Earthly connections than a paired Interfacer, he'd have more freedom to take vacations around Earth and even go back to HQ to be with other lerians from time to time. But he knew he would want to break character as little as possible, and he wouldn't be able to do as much in HQ if he kept up as John Smith for the duration.

How absurd that this is all happening because I called Piran from the taxi! If I had pretended to forget about the horn remark, Piran would have known nothing; Cecina would've been spared the invasion of her privacy; I myself would not have my medical records opened up with a citation put on my record. Maybe I even could have been paired with Cecina on Earth if she still trusted me. Maybe if I'd gone to Cecina instead of Piran... but no, I would still feel guilty for not 'taking responsibility'.

Mother taught me to always be forthright and honest. Look where that led me. Upholding truth and honor counts for little if this is what happens. Fuck moral absolutes; the 'right thing' isn't always the best thing.

That didn't sit well with him, but it felt like a surprisingly lucid moment. Besides, what other answer was there?