He didn’t clarify the nature of the barter—mainly because he didn’t see the need. Josh already knew what the barter was for, whether or not either wanted to admit it right now. Aidan crossed his arms, jaw clenching, eyes downcast. He kept his voice low, “I’m sure it’s a horrible idea, but I don’t have a whole lot of choice. I can’t keep letting you feed me bagged blood from the prison’s supply—what if something happened? What if it was needed and it wasn’t there? This isn’t like Boston with a near-endless supply of living people to replace the supply in the event of a catastrophe. I could—try to find someone to feed me, some kind of protection arrangement, but I haven’t had much luck with that since Celine. There was—a little while when I was with Suren when I was managing it—not hurting anyone, at least, largely thanks to you—I.” His voice was softer—almost pleading in an odd way. He needed Josh to not—give up on him. “I don’t like it any more than you do, but I’ve been running over it in my head constantly and I can’t come up with any other solution.”