Page 63 of Thexan

“It’s going to create conflict,” I corrected, pushing away from the door and turning to face him. “The only question is how much.”

He was still seated on the cot, the fresh bandage secured, his posture controlled in that way I was starting to recognize as more than discipline. It was awareness. Even at rest, he seemed fully present, as though nothing in his environment existed without being accounted for.

There was no way anyone in this settlement was going to mistake him for human.

Not with the structure of him, not with the stillness, not with the way he held himself as though the world required nothing less than his full attention at all times.

To anyone who didn’t know better, he would look like exactly what he was.

A threat.

The thought tightened something in my chest, because I knew what I was about to ask the people I cared about to accept.

“You’re not going to soften this for them,” I said.

“No.”

“Good,” I said, even though I knew that would make everything harder. “Because I’m not going to pretend, you’re something you’re not either.”

“I am aware of what I am.”

“I know,” I said quietly. “I just need them to understand that you’re not here to hurt them.”

“They will evaluate based on observable behavior.”

“That’s exactly what I’m worried about.”

Something shifted in his expression then, subtle enough that I might have missed it if I hadn’t already learned how to read the smallest changes in him.

“They will observe you,” he said.

I frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”

“They will assess your alignment with me before they assess me,” he said. “Your position will influence their interpretation.”

The realization settled in immediately, not as a surprise, but as something I should have anticipated.

He was right.

In a place like this, where trust was built on observation and reinforced through survival, they wouldn’t just be looking at him.

They’d be watching me.

The way I stood with him.

The way I didn’t step away.

The fact that I had already made a choice, whether I said it out loud or not.

“That’s not going to help,” I said.

“No.”

I let out a quiet breath, the weight of it settling into something steadier, something I could actually work with instead of trying to avoid.

“Then we don’t give them room to misread it,” I said.

His gaze held mine. “Clarify.”