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“It was accurate.”

There was no pride in his voice. No embarrassment either. Just fact. That somehow made it more interesting.

“Really?”

He nodded.

“You commanded a unit.”

“Yes.”

“How many?”

He hesitated. “Varied.”

“Were you good?”

He looked at the table, then at the wall, then back to me. “That is subjective.”

“You were decorated?”

He said nothing.

I pointed at him. “That means yes.”

“I received commendations.”

“How many?”

“That is irrelevant.”

“You keep saying that about every interesting thing.”

He picked up his empty nutrient packet, folded it once, then folded it again.

I knew I should stop. I didn’t.

“What did you get them for?”

“Operations.”

“That narrows it down to everything soldiers do.”

He nodded once. “Correct.”

I laughed softly.

He set the folded packet down and looked at the door like he was counting seconds until he could leave. That probably meant I had reached something human. Er, well, alien. Zunatorian.

I ate another bite. “You liked it.”

“What?”

“Being a commander.”

His face changed. It was subtle but not enough to hide from me anymore.

“You’re guessing again.”