He takes one of Lucas' hands -- it smells really good, he wants to rub his face all over it, which. Is an urge he can suppress for now -- and threads his fingers with his own. "I don't know. It's complicated." He's never been good at that right-or-wrong thing, in spite or maybe because of what he is, just what has to be done and what doesn't. He thinks about it for a bit.

"Do you want a way out?"