[He was afraid to sit too close-- he wanted to, Satan did he want to just crawl into Stolas' lap and bury his face in the tuft of feathers at his collar and hug him and apologize until he was hoarse (ha), but--]

[--that. That was pretty solidly why. He flinches, knowing Stolas isn't wrong, and probably doesn't mean it as harshly as it comes out, but it still pulls his posture inward like he's a doll on a string. His breath catches when he draws it in, and then it's his turn to pull a knee up to his chest and hug onto it. Stolas apologizing just after soothes, but only just-- he doesn't feel like he deserves the apology, anyway.] All of it, Stolas, I-- fuck. [He presses his face into the side of his knee and breathes a moment.] I'm so fucked up, I already told you I'm shit at sorries-- you're the only fucking one I wanted to apologize to and I decided to ride my dick ass around all seven fucking rings apologizing with cheese baskets to a bunch of fuckers instead, because I'm a stubborn piece of shit.