Reggie Waite studied his younger clone-brother. “Good afternoon, Sprue. Do you have any idea why I’ve called you in here today?”
Spruance Del Curtin tensed, a subtle movement barely visible through his track suit. “No.”
Yes, there was a subtle hesitation, a drawing out of the negative particle with a little too much emphasis. Subtle cues, but easier to recognize in your own flesh and blood. Sprue wasn’t trying to falsely deny a definite positive. Instead, he was trying to brush away a multitude of possibilities.
“I was expecting that answer.” Reggie kept his voice mild, knowing it would keep Sprue wondering. “No doubt there are so many places you’ve been sailing a lee shore that you’re not sure which one’s the problem.”
Make that definite — Sprue had quite a few things on his mind. Now the question was whether to openly confront him about his pump people for information, or to leave things ambiguous enough that he’d might decide to tighten up on a number of things where he was playing fast and loose.
As Reggie expected, Sprue was far too cagey to blurt anything out. “It seems like someone’s always after me for something. One person’s unhappy that I’m not studying enough to suit them, and another’s complaining that I’m showing people up. It’s pretty hard to know what’s the real problem.”
“In which case, maybe you ought to do some serious thinking about just what you’re doing, and why it bothers people.” Reggie looked straight into his eyes. “Consider this a warning that some people are not pleased with your attitude, and things may go poorly for you if they do not see some change. Dismissed.”
Sprue managed to choke out something shaped like a promise to do better, then left in a little more haste than was appropriate. However, calling on him on a violation of protocol at this point would not be a good idea.
Still, they were going to need to curb his curiosity. That or bring him in on things, which would require being confident he knew when to keep his mouth shut.