[ Hers is a thoughtful, nearly apologetic assessment of Lyney--one that begs feeling even as she says it in mellow tones. There's likely no one in Wriothesley's life who could summarize him in such a manner. He listens intently, nodding his appreciation. Even with his sources of information, it's rare to get this kind of look into an inmate: a higher vantage point, one nested in the kind of closeness that can't be substituted for. ]

No one could know him better than you do. I'm fortunate to have your insight as to who Lyney is. He is, too--many inmates have no one to speak on their behalf at all.

[ He doesn't get the sense that Lynette will come flying at him over the table if he asks, but he does know he needs to tread carefully if he's to better understand the situation at hand. He's not hoping for much, at this point--circling back to their similarities, both seem perfectly loyal to the Fatui, to their Father--there's no one else to ask, short of trying the House in person and hoping Arlecchino is there. He'd rather not go that route. He rarely likes to throw the first jab. ]

But you say Lyney feels he has to make up for things. Even things that may happen. What sort of things may happen, if I might ask?