[He catalogues Stolas' movements, watches the way he folds up even smaller, somehow, and lowers his hands. His tail loops up over the arm of the couch with him and curls against it, like he's holding onto the corner to avoid wringing his hands again.]

[He exhales a wobbly laugh.] Pretty sure I've told you before, I don't do shit I don't wanna do. Can-- can I come over there? It's weird for you to look so little wedged up in the corner of a couch.