we can't make any promises now

Remi’s boyish smile, the one that Loren knew so well once upon a time, nearly undid him. Somehow, though, he managed to keep himself relatively intact. “I’m Edy and Zariah’s cousin.” Well, kind of: they were more distant relatives than that. But explaining the whole family tree would take too long, be too difficult, and expose Loren’s identity, basically everything he wanted to avoid in that moment. Hopefully the alchemist would think the tremble in Loren’s voice came from grief over Edy’s death—which had indeed hit him hard again in that moment—and not anything to do with the way the light played over the lines and planes of the Attuned’s face. The long pause, where the other man hummed a pitch that shredded Loren’s heart, was excruciating. And he had to look away when the alchemist smiled apologetically—as if Remi could do any wrong to Loren that would come close to the harm the librarian had done to the Attuned—and ruffled his hair. The Launceleyn was afraid that if he kept gazing at the other man’s unruly curls, Loren’s fingers might move of their own volition to smooth them out. Then Remi finally spoke and Loren’s heart sank further. “I see.” Any delay was dangerous, as with each passing moment Loren risked either revealing himself or losing himself. He wasn’t sure which would be worse. “Look, I just want to make sure that there’s nothing stored in those rooms that might prove dangerous, especially if people will be staying there for LongNight.” Hopefully that would overcome whatever reluctance the alchemist was feeling; Loren hadn’t ever known the other man to deny someone help when they needed it, so long as their heart was in the right place. Granted, Loren's heart was all over the place, but he was at least telling the truth about his reason for being here even if everything else was a lie. “So if you could just tell me where I could find one of the keys, I’d greatly appreciate it and I’d get out of your hair.” The Launceleyn was slipping, his words coming out just a hair too fast, and his tone gaining the barest note of frantic panic. But he couldn’t help himself, not with Remi so close, yet with an uncrossable chasm between the two of them. LOREN Not quite an open book