[The confusion throws him. It seems so real. Seems genuine. And there's a part of him, a giant, desperate, screaming part of him, that wants more than anything for it to be true.
But then, maybe that's why he's so loathe to believe it. He knows how flawless the act can be. His voice softens slightly, but his face stays grim.]
You know perfectly well what, Illyria. Stop being...
no subject
But then, maybe that's why he's so loathe to believe it. He knows how flawless the act can be. His voice softens slightly, but his face stays grim.]
You know perfectly well what, Illyria. Stop being...
[He trails off, looking away.]
Please.