Kylo considers Ronan silently for a few more heartbeats, then curls his fingers. The cell phone glides out from Ronan's grip and flies smoothly to his palm, where he scrolls up to read the last few exchanges before discarding the device with an absent flick. It scuttles, shuddering across the concrete, and comes to a stop. Kylo's head swings to fix its blank masked stare on Ronan's face. He reaches towards him, towards his mind. He's an ice floe over the surface of his thoughts.

"Who supplied you with the capsules?" Kylo asks, his voice deceptively light.