He took Nicolau by the shoulders and pushed him just far enough away that Tam could see him. “Hey,” he said sternly. “Take your hands down. Look at me.” Nicolau obeyed, wearily—gods, that expression made Tam so angry. Hopeless, exhausted, hurt. His fault. His face was wet; his eyes and nose and mouth were red. Tam set his jaw, called up every ounce of obstinance he had, and dug in his heels against himself. “Listen to me,” he said fiercely, shaking Nicolau’s shoulders a little. “I’m sorry. I fucked up, talking to you like that. And I am never going to do that again.”
