“Where’d you get this?” he said, looking at the label. He wasn’t that familiar with whiskeys, but a double-oaked bourbon sounded like a pretty big deal. At the very least, bourbon tasted better than the shine he and Carly used to share during late nights on the roof of their favorite café —nasty swill, like drinking laundry water, but it did the job.
“It was a gift,” Dara said. He reached out a hand, and Noam passed the bottle. “I didn’t want to drink it alone. Well, that’s a lie, but...”
“So you’re sharing it with me?”
“If you’ll break into the government complex all on your own, you’ve clearly got the spine for it.”
“Speaking of.” Noam put the whiskey down on the bench between them and arched a brow.
“Right.” Dara reached for the bottle, staring down its open mouth. “You want to know what I was doing there.”
“And?”
“You know, I could have asked you the same thing, but I didn’t.” Dara’s mouth twisted into a brief and superficial smile, and he looked up. “How about you don’t ask, and I continue to return the favor.”
“I already told you and Lehrer what I was up to. I was bored and decided to have a look around. Your turn.”
“Oh,” Dara said, waving a vague hand. “You know. Same.”
“You hacked into the Ministry of Defense.”
“Hacking is more your wheelhouse, Álvaro. Guess you need to practice your technopathy more, seeing as you got caught.”
Noam made a face. “Alternatively,” he said, “you could just tell me what you were looking for. Maybe I can help.”
“Nice try. Cute, though.”
“Are you trying to undermine Lehrer?”
“Now why would I do a thing like that?” There was something to the lilt of Dara’s voice, something almost bitter.
“You tell me. Is it just to get Lehrer’s attention?”
That hit a nerve. Dara physically recoiled, knuckles going briefly white around the neck of the bourbon bottle. His mouth was a thin line.
“I’m sorry,” Noam said. “I didn’t mean that. I just...”
“Wanted to get under my skin?” Dara said, voice still strained, even though he smiled before he took a swig of whiskey. “Well, good job. I think you’re right. That must be it.”
Noam bit his lip to stop himself from asking more questions. “Yeah,” he said instead, just to fill the silence. “So. New topic. Um. What do you want to be when you grow up?”
Dara snorted.
“I mean it. Bethany wants to be a healer. Ames wants to keep climbing military ranks. Taye’s gonna... well, okay, who even knows what Taye wants. But what about you?”
Dara drank again, relaxing back against the bench and turning his face toward the market lights strung overhead. “I don’t know,” he said, passing the bottle back to Noam.
This time, Noam kept it. He could tell Dara was already starting to feel the liquor—his eyes were glassy-bright, cheeks flushed. He must’ve been drinking already, before they came out here.
Maybe it wasn’t any of Noam’s business. Dara would almost certainly say so, that he was allowed to drink if he wanted to drink.
But Noam wanted to get to know him. To really know him, not just the version of Dara that emerged from the bottom of a bourbon bottle.
“Sure you do,” Noam said.
“I really don’t.”
“What about politics? You have the connections for it.” Connections to Lehrer. To Sacha, whom Dara didn’t even bother to greet in the hall.
