[ As expected, he turns on a dime--no matter the fragile sense of friendliness between the two lately, Wriothesley hardly expects him to open up and spill over just because he's having a rough night. At a loss, he gazes hard at Lyney. Then looks down to the envelopes. One stack is likely for Lynette alone. The other is topped off with one for 'Father'.

He can't say with certainty what's eating Lyney. But he knows what's gnawing at himself--now, and at the back of his mind since they first talked about it. ]

Good thing I caught you in a good mood, then, [ said pointedly ] because there's something I wanted to ask you. [ The kid's scarcely been here three minutes and sending him headlong into what he could just as easily ignore. But he wonders if he can really do that--go on ignoring this. ] Get comfortable. I'll brew us a pot.

[ He gets up, walls out any protestations the boy may have, and walks away to do as he says. ]