[It's true, for all Myr still hasn't worked out how to forgive Van for what happened. And like any truth there's a vulnerability in it; he knows it, knows how Van would advise him here--if, apparently, the admission hadn't shut his cousin down completely.

He's not sure if that's a good sign; sits twisting his sending crystal between his fingers as he considers what he's just confessed to and awaits a response.

That it slots so comfortably into their old disrupted patterns gets a huff of a laugh out of him.]

Yeah, yeah. Don't know how I got on without you for the last three years. [He struggles to keep the words light and dry and teasing; the pain still stains them like blood on cloth. It's several moments' work to swallow it before it can blossom into an accusation.] Besides I ought to know better--you'd be too much for even a squid to stomach. You'd hex its guts right out of it for having the gall.

But I won't be making any trips to Darktown while you're out, promise; I'll stick to the chapel instead and beseech the Maker for fair winds and safe travel for you. Just--don't be so safe you can't have an adventure out there, too. [Because that's what freedom means, doesn't it?]