[There's absolutely no way to avoid looking at Joseph now. It's flatly impossible. Which might be the point, Caesar thinks, half-listenin. If Joseph noticed him retreating into himself, his first action would be trying to distract him. And Joseph is very good at being distracting. It's practically his primary skill.]

I could learn a thing or two from you. [His voice is a little numb at first, but then it comes out stronger, sharper, indignant, only a little forced.] From you? I don't think so, idiota. I'm the one who just caught you offguard, remember? Or did your little fish wipe your memory for you, too?

[He shoves Joseph in the chest with both hands, hard enough to make him stumble but not fall. He can feel old familiar things burning in him: irritation, competitiveness, a flicker of anger. They comfort him. Feeling bad is much more natural than feeling as though the stars have realigned themselves while he's been playing a game he doesn't understand.]