[ he stills at the question. c- couldn’t he just leave well enough alone-! who has time for words, or to put their mess of feelings to words... is such a thing even possible?! childe sits back, retreating a bit as his lips become a tight, thin line. ] ... [ he doesn’t know how to answer that. or, hm, no... he kind of does, but isn’t interested in doing so? it’s easier to neither confirm nor deny this sort of thing. ]

I think the tea’s getting cold. [ as are his feet - womp - so he’s going to try to hastily get off the bed and head back to the kitchen. ]