He'd like to come across as above this sort of anxiety, but Lemm's gaze snaps down to study their next words with subtle intensity. There is a shift in his expression, and in the way he's sitting - less tense, if barely noticeable to begin with - and he looks down at his latest task again.

With the doubting part of him sufficiently quelled, Lemm slips neatly back into the mask of stoicism. He's just a shopkeeper doing a favour for an acquaintance. These things happen all the time. (The pretense that they'd be doing him a turn is, too, dropped, now that he doesn't need to hide behind it.)

"Don't mention it." There is the soft clinking of shards being arranged by fitting edges. "I mean that. I don't need anyone thinking I give things away. Getting other bugs to understand the business - and me - is hard enough as it is. I don't want a reputation for being approachable, it leads to trouble and expectations and I'll have no part of it. ...Ugh, come here," he sighs.

He stops fiddling with the pieces and leans forward far enough to tuck his arm around the Knight's back, sweeping them close, after knowingly making them wait for him to finish talking. His other arm folds around them in a tight squeeze.