Felix blinks, taken a little aback. But he stops watching the tavern around them and focuses entirely on Amelia’s face, listens quietly while she airs her thoughts and hurt. He waits until she’s finished before smiling slightly, an expression that’s half sympathy and half apology. It’s always awkward to have your attempt at comfort go sideways, but he can’t exactly blame her for being sick of assurances. And at least she didn’t just smack him tell him to shut his mouth.

“Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to join the chorus. I suppose few people would want to tell you it’s hopeless. Or that you should stop looking for a path home.” He swills the dregs of his ale, lifting a hand to signal a server for refills. “And from my perspective… perhaps it’s easier for me to believe that some greater power has a hand in every matter here. It's my natural assumption, you might say."