He knows it was likely unnecessary, and their insistence as such is not reassuring that he made a good decision. It is a comfortable relief that they do know this, anyway. And that's not why he said it.

Lemm is more patient for them to finish this time.

He doesn't quite know what to say to that. Tentatively, his hand comes to rest beside their paper, palm-up, a silent invitation.

"I didn't say all of that because I thought you hadn't worked it out yourself," he explains. His eyes are fixed on their writing like he's committing it to heart. "I said it because you ought to hear it from someone else. Someone who isn't you."

Still locked on the page, Lemm sighs softly, and with his other hand he taps have not had, have not had, have not had.

"That's why I said it. So you'd have gotten to hear it from someone else. Want you to have that, at least."