[ When the fire pops, Krouse flinches again, a smaller echo of the first. He brings the tea up to sip it to lower the waterline, because it's one small thing he can do to stave off a small disaster, and because it gives him a second longer to think, as if that makes a difference. He realizes how dry his mouth is when lavender sluices over his tongue.

He sets the teacup down. It clinks delicately against the saucer, ringing outsized in his ears. ]

I'm asking for your help. [ His eyes stay down, a thin ripple of helpless shame in his tone. ] Please.

[ After everything he's done, he knows he's past standing on pride. He's not reluctant to ask for help because he thinks he's above it. This is about the squirming things inside of him far uglier than what he's guarding under his sore fingers. Everything he doesn't want to drag up into the light, where someone with clear eyes can get a look in on exactly the kind of person he is.

But this isn't about him, and he's never found a line he wouldn't cross for what he owes to someone else. ]

I can make it worth your while. [ For this, he looks up, dark eyes gleaming with intensity. ] You've seen what I can do. I'm not a bad ally to have in your corner.