[When Maia thanks him and says that he knows he shouldn't have asked, thanks him for his willingness to share his feelings, Csevet shakes his head, silent, unable to articulate his response. It's too complicated a feeling to try to put words to, how he feels awkward and uncomfortable at the same time as relieved, a little rubbed raw and exposed at the same time as intensely pleased that Maia cares to know about him. It isn't unpleasant even if it stings just a little, makes him feel...vulnerable, in a way that Csevet does not like to be.

And yet, to be vulnerable with someone like Maia, doesn't feel threatening. When Maia thanks him, it seems genuine, like his vulnerability was appreciated, and that sits warm in his belly along with the raw feeling in his chest.]

You did not ask too much, Maia. And you do not expect too much of us, for we have never been so satisfied in any position as we have been to be your secretary.

[After a moment, he pauses, exhales, uncertain of how to respond. How can he say that he is living a full life, or at least as full as he imagines he ever could, considering his inclinations and his...affections...for someone he could never be with.]

And we assure you, Maia, that we have many friends and a very full social life that we are free to indulge as often as we like.