A frown tugs at the corner of Tarn's mouth. Slowly, he slips the stunner back into his holster, before casually approaching Miles. He watches him, vigilant in looking for any changes in body language, or movement toward his dagger.

He needs to judge his sincerity.

Sliding right up to Miles, Tarn cocks his head, before leaning down to stare him in the eye."The feeling is mutual. But, worry not, I hate everyone on this forsaken mud-ball of a planet."

Tarn slips a hand up to clap Miles on the shoulder. If he wants to stab him, now would be the time.