[ Distance closing means they're closer to the 'truth', even if both of them can't answer it. Lyney isn't angry, Wriothesley isn't shutting the conversation down. There's a small bit of progress, enough to have them both uncomfortable. The chair settles next to him and instead of that commanding, stern reaction – there's a softness in his grasp. ]

What are you even talking about? [ He huffs, childish but the way to counter how unsettling it was to hear Wriothesley, of all people, admit to pressure. This wasn't guarding some primordial sea or keeping inmates in line. Those tiny hands cling to his, holding tight like cat claws. ] I would be out of your hair in months time. You'd never have to worry about me, Lynette, or Freminet again... unless you come to the surface for a show or wish to learn to dive from our expert.

[ But, no. They shared something intimate and the way Wriothesley's held responsibility to Lyney becomes more and more clear. ]

...I could be gone with my mind on one thing, returning to Father but – you. You. [ He repeats. ] Frustrating as you are, I'm thinking of you when I shouldn't be.

[ Lonely nights, nights where he can't stop and touch himself, dreams, and wishes. All one big boiling pot of confusion. ]