Much as he wants to shake Rufus, to demand to know what he was thinking, Tseng recognizes that it would not be helpful here. He does not need that prescient sense he has about this man to pick out the slight tremors echoing beneath his skin. Here and now, there is a right way to do things, and then there is a very, very wrong way.

"Come." It is a command, no matter his station. Even Rufus needs order sometimes. If his job is to restore stability, then he is prepared to rise to the occasion.

He does not abandon Rufus to this task alone. He holds him at arm's length, slides his fingers up the sides of his face and brushes them into his hair. He trains his gaze on Rufus's eyes, steady and calm.

"We are going to sit. And you will tell me everything."