"How 'bout some fucking lyrium," Barrow snaps back before he can stop himself, and immediately paws his hand to his forehead and wipes it down his face, with another shudder. Keep your shit together, he seems to be telling himself, with increasing difficulty.

"'s not worth it, mate, this isn't fucking worth it," he mutters, clenching and unclenching his hands, trying not to look at Mobius.