"You know," he said finally, dragging his hands down his face and revealing a lopsided grin that was more tired than anything else, "I thought I’d gotten used to this. The self-righteous accusations. The yelling. The cheap insults. The cutting attacks on my-" he stops before he actually thought of quoting Drake again.

"But you? You’re in a league of your own." He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his grin sharpening into something almost amused. Or perhaps even something as respect that would tuck itself in a blade to stab right through. "I think this is the first time I’ve genuinely hated talking to someone. Very impressive."