[ Royce goes rigid, the words sending a sting through his chest like a sword. Like he's been stabbed clean through. It's not as accusatory, sure, but it still feels... bad. He's angry, defensive, and he doesn't want to back down, he doesn't want to say he's wrong, he's always wrong, even when he's trying to do things the right way, trying to talk about what bothers him. It's never right, it just ends like this, with Royce feeling like an idiot. A sour taste rises up in his throat and for a second, he grips at the edge of the sink so hard that he thinks if he was just a little stronger, he'd leave marks. ]

Yes, well. This is what you signed up for. [ He says, tone icy. ] You need to pick one narrative, Alfie. Either it's okay for me to feel upset and talk to you about why I find something upsetting, or it's not, and I keep secrets from you so that we don't end up with you fucking scolding me.

[ It's not really fair of him to say, but he's frustrated - he thought he was doing really well. ]