Once again Felix is the calm one, and once again it rubs off – this time for good. Harrowheart's tension slowly eases away as Felix continues to talk. He's right, too; Being calm is necessary, and this really does all hinge on his own mood right now. It's not an accusation, and this is all part of having a more normal future, scary though it may be in the moment. He closes his eyes and focuses, and this time finds that breathing slowly brings him around to a more agreeable mood.

Eventually he nods quietly. He's ready, he's focused, and, more importantly, he has decided.

"The blades get a unique kind of soul, and in return they'll let me separate myself from them. Distance-wise, I mean. They'll let me leave 'em places so I don't always gotta carry 'em around. I–" He pulls an uncomfortable face and quietly admits, "I don't think I'm smart enough to say it in a crafty sorta way, Felix..."