"Stop," he breathes, and he hates that it sounds like a plea. "Christ, just stop. Should have - that's the barest attempt at a bloody apology I've heard."

Christ, as soon as it's out of his mouth he wants it back. He could just be agreeable. He could just say it's alright and try to make that true, couldn't he? He could sit here and drink and be pleasant and talk about the play as if he hadn't thought Anthony might have disappeared, or written him off.

"It's clear enough where I stand if I don't warrant a word from you in weeks, or a real apology when you do decide to resurface. And it's fine - I ought not have thought more."