Rylie chuckled, though the sound lacked warmth. "Neither, Master Aelion. What I am is informed. As much as you may detest my methods, you detest missing opportunities even more. You want perfection."
Lyle leaned back in his chair, his face cast in shifting light and shadow from the fire pit's dancing flames. It was a mask of stoicism, his dark eyes betraying none of the thoughts churning behind them. "What concerns me," he said finally, his voice measured, "is whether your so-called information is worth the risk. You talk about unrecorded experiments and elusive breakthroughs, but for all I know, you could be feeding me lies."