"Yes. Fine. Not my business." He snorts, reaching across to squeeze that arm because excuse you, he's him, don't expect him not to.

But the hand lingers, just as much as his closeness in the moment. Oops, you gave him an in.

"Consider it dead, the coffin shut, and dirt layered overtop of it for the absolute height of my own good-natured generosity and faith— now will you stop giving me the cold bloody shoulder for trying my absolute best to help you."