[ That most likely looks different on Zephirin, not quite as endearing, for Francel to be so mortified and betrayed. Releasing his hair, Zephirin's fingers briefly rake through it, letting the strands settle as they were. ]

We got a little sidetracked before I could mention it — besides, I wouldn't say that it was urgent, or that it looked bad.

[ Whether or not Francel believes the truth, delivered matter-of-fact. Zephirin's hands move on to the empty lunchbox to seal closed and return, to his notes to gather up after that. ]

Should I have let you take care of it yourself?