“We’ve known each other how long?” Sungyeol interrupted, “Shouldn’t you trust my judgment?”

“It’s them I don’t trust,” Namjoo hissed, wringing the hem of her shirt between her fingers to hide the frustrated tremors.  “You don’t find this suspicious at all?”

He pursed his lips in a tight line, stark and thin like the one upon which he’d sign his consent and allow the government to make a human lab rat of him—Namjoo clenched her jaw in response.  She recognized that look, and talking to Sungyeol when he was acting this stubborn was about as productive as speaking to a wall.