Frustration kindles like slowly simmering water in Felix’s gut. He frowns. “It’s not, but only because I didn’t know there was anything to help with.” But maybe, he thinks, asking what he came to ask will help.

“I was going to ask if...” It sounds pathetic to his ears now that he’s saying it out loud, but Claude himself was the one who asked him once what was more important—his pride or someone he loved. So he presses on. “If you wanted to come and sleep in our room. With me. With...us.”