"Both."
Haruki's jaw tightened. There it was again — the part of him that resisted command even when obedience would be safer.
"You trusted me enough to say yes," he said. "Don't treat me like a child immediately afterwards."
"I do not."
"You're deciding what I can know."
"That is not unique to children."
"You know what I mean."
Renji did. He looked away first. Haruki stopped advancing. The distance between them remained careful.
"You don't have to tell me anything about the White Lotus," he said.
Renji became still. Haruki saw it — again, the same brief fracture he had noticed in the emergency department. This time there was no blood loss to blame.
"I didn't come here to interrogate you," Haruki continued. "I'm not asking about the Accord or the tunnels."
"Then why did you ask?"
"Because I wanted to know whether what I was beginning to believe was true."
"And now?"
"Now it is."
Haruki removed his coat again. The gesture surprised Renji. He placed it over the back of the chair as though the question had not ended the evening, as though Renji's answer had not made departure more urgent.
"What are you doing?" Renji asked.
"Taking my coat off."
"I can see that."
"You're becoming repetitive."
"You were leaving."
"I was."
"And now?"
Haruki met his gaze.
"Now I don't think you should be alone."
Something in Renji hardened immediately.
"I have been alone longer than your Family has existed."
"That doesn't mean you should be."
"You know nothing about what I require."
"You said you required very little."