"Of course I can't fucking stand myself. If I'm being scored on affability and accommodation, then you're free to fail me. I'm interested in getting things done and doing them right, not doing the easy or popular thing just to get away with it unscathed."

He shifts his weight to one foot and abruptly releases Hythlodaeus' wrist, now restless under continued scrutiny. It was easier to bear the cold outside, where it was inescapable, than it is inside, where the warm air's contact with cold skin highlights his discomfort rather than letting him go numb after enough pain. The same way an itch is more maddening than an open wound.

"...yeah, I know that's what you want me to do," he mutters, neither outright rejecting nor responding to the conversational exit ramp in a helpful way. It's such an obvious invitation, he couldn't accept if he wanted to.

Does he want to?

Doesn't matter.

"I'm just saying.... we disagree with each other."