[How many times have people outside what Yngvi chooses to call family which is to say Gunnar, the Boneflayers, Aura Hardie, have ever asked him a question like that. What do you do with this sort of gentleness when it wasn't taught to you?

Where did Kit learn it? It's what gets him looking up sharply, his face pinched in and the colour of curdled milk except where it's not, where instead it's red splotches of what might be shame, embarrassment, upset.]

I'm going to fuck up. [Best get that out of the way as if Yngvi doesn't do that three times before breakfast, as if that isn't a consequence of his nature, his existence.] I just-- I'm going to fuck up and I'm sorry when I do, I don't know how to do--

You left. How did you-- no I-- shit. Forget I asked, no, you're here I shouldn't be asking not after that. [Keep pushing when your grubby fingers already did enough and it'll be your own fault he's gone.]