[ That's...well. It's said frankly enough that Wriothesley has no reason to suspect otherwise. Lyney is nothing if not skilled at potraying an illusion, but Wriothesley knows plain speaking when he hears it, and this is exactly that. He's overthinking things. This was silly. He thrums his fingers against the book laid out before him, shuts the cover without marking his place. Avoids Lyney's eyes. ]
And if it wasn't fine?
[ And now he's squandered a perfect out from this ridiculous line of discussion. He's tired. That's what he's decided: he's very, very tired, and that's why he's not making sense right now, picturing problems where there aren't any. Creating them by his own hand, even. ]
no subject
And if it wasn't fine?
[ And now he's squandered a perfect out from this ridiculous line of discussion. He's tired. That's what he's decided: he's very, very tired, and that's why he's not making sense right now, picturing problems where there aren't any. Creating them by his own hand, even. ]