"...Get well, then. Or - no, don't pass that on. Urgh." Eyes locked on the writing, Lemm rests his head against his hand, and one finger taps his forehead as he thinks on how to explain himself.

The Knight has a lot to handle. Lemm's got nothing to offer but stories, and none of them have ever been his. He would like to be part of something. It's a mean little thought, that.

"I won't breathe a word," he says simply.