There's a stillness to him now as his shoulders sink with a released breath.

Samuel had been right. The Loyalists had twisted him, and he allowed it to happen. He can't take that back,
as much as he wants to. And thinking about Emily is like getting too close to a hot stove. He can't bring himself to burn his hand quite yet.

"I think we're done here," he tells him instead, but there's no steel to it. He needs time to think, to drink, to sit and hate himself a while.