You apologise without sounding frightened, framing the question as process confusion, the kind of mistake that happens when systems are opaque and days are long. You don't beg. You don't joke. You don't try to charm him back into friendship, because charm would admit guilt. It's dull enough to be believed, and tonight dullness is mercy. Marc slides from suspicion into irritation, and irritation is easier to use: it still talks, still complains, still hands you fragments if you listen without grabbing. You exhale too early and tell yourself you survived. Then you remember surviving isn't the same as being trusted. [[Marc Quietly Helpful|Continue the conversation]]