"How--" starts a notch louder before Jayce abruptly catches himself. Bending forward just a wee bit more, angled toward Viktor as if doing so will aid in discretion, he hisses, "How can't I be? You're telling me to-- to--"

Here, his hands attempt to talk for him, but the frustrated motions conjure very little beyond highlighting his fluster. His arms lay to rest on his thighs in defeat.

"--you know what? I don't know what you're trying to tell me, talking about seeing other people and doing whatever I want like this is some sort of weird break-up." His palms turn upward, seeking. "Is this all really because I've chosen to learn how to defend myself?"

Is this a consequence of the magic that stole the memory of me from you? haunts the shadows of his mind because there isn't a goddamn thing Jayce can do about that, and that powerlessness is terrifying.