“The nature of friendship is not transactional,” Richard says. He might have said so before; he can’t remember. Regardless, it sounds like a reminder.

“That said,” he braces with a glance down after the tankard at his hand -- nudges it aside, “you told me once that a Rifter who wanted to serve might be welcomed as a Warden.” Thot’s claws push out to curl gentle around the tip of Ellis’ tappy finger.

“I have been curious about what that would entail.”