Cal usually knows better than to attribute such deliberate maneuverings to the few people he considers friends - they are friends in part because they don't do that kind of thing, not to him.

But he's strained, and tired, and quietly angry in ways he can't or won't quantify, and it's affecting his thinking.

"I - I know I should . . ." He trails off for a moment, then leaves the sentence incomplete in favor of a new one: "I just - I can't, right now."