"It was on your mind. Eating at you until there was nothing left. I could see it..." See the shadow whispering in Jim's ear. Every time Felix handed him his rations. Every time Jim carefully separated out a portion he deemed enough. Every time the Imperial chose not to stare and bit back his anger at whatever voice in his captain's mind was telling him that was all he deserved. All he was worth.

And now here he is calling out the shadow at Felix's elbow. It's not the same, nowhere near the same. Tarsus wasn't Jim's fault. And conjuration isn't the same as necromancy but-

"And if you... don't like... the things I tell you?" He looks up at Jim warily, those strands of white peeking out through one side of his messy hair. It's hard to let go of such a habit. Harder to admit that he might have done anything wrong in sticking to it. But Jim is so earnest. So kind and loving and Felix wants to believe if there's anyone he can trust it's him.