Jedao is still for a time, staring at nothingness. He's whittling down his responses, trying to find the honest ones, trying to see what he can do in return. Nothing he says will ever be as pure and gentle as Bull's words; he just doesn't know how. His heart will give out first.

Instead, he sits up, ignoring the way his back pops and stretches in protest, so he can run his hand down Bull's jaw, kissing the side of his mouth. "Then do your worst, Kadan, I-..." He still can't say it. He's said it before, to manipulate, to use, and now, when he wants it to be genuine, it feels wrong, a betrayal. He sighs, and lies back down, turning on his side to look Bull over. "I trust you."

From centuries of service, even that, too, feels like a lie.