[He deserves to know. He deserves to know for certain that if either of them ought to feel less than gangue, it should be Kit, not Yngvi.]

I killed someone.

[Soft enough to be a whisper, tight as a bowstring. Kit clenches and unclenches his jaw, holds Yngvi's gaze long enough to get the words out, to let out another breath, then looks away. He presses his mouth against his fingers, quiet.] A friend, [he clarifies quietly, because the shame of it won't let him raise his voice.] I killed my best friend. That's... that's why I'm out, now.

[Now the Stone will never have him.]