[He stops himself, taking a breath, stifling down that nagging protectiveness creeping into his own mind. He should address this. And go home. Now.]

Glacius, did—

[He grinds his teeth, a strangled noise barely escaping the back of his throat. He is painfully red -- it's from working in his garden, he promises.]

As much as I appreciate your- your concern for my well-being, did- was this- can we talk about this? Now?

[Now now. Now now now. So much now that it doesn't even cross his mind that he should probably try to make this very conversation private. That's such a feat for someone as technologically inept as him.]