Felix lets go of Claude's other hand now, too, so he can gently comb his fingers through the mess that the other man has made of his hair, as they talk. It's good, he thinks, that some idle speculation works its way into the conversation. It makes Claude sound more like himself, which means his mind is working again. That's a good sign.

"Hm. I'm sure it didn't help that prayers and choir practice were mandatory. Or that holy knights wandered around everywhere armed to the teeth."

Felix looks down at nothing and nods along. There's a part of him that's relieved to know that Claude trusts Felix enough to talk about these things; that the trust isn't just one-sided. But the way Claude describes the way he feels hits home so hard that he can feel tension building behind his eyes and in his throat. Dammit, not now...

"Me too." It's not a response to any one thing, just all of it in general. "But why can't you afford that?"