we can't make any promises now

Hearing Remi call Loren an actual Launceleyn was like a punch in the gut. He closed his eyes briefly, not able to prevent his hands from clenching into fists or his jaw from tightening.  “No. Not really. Just someone with their name and their blood.” If he hadn’t in effect rejected his family’s lifestyle by leaving them once and for all, then surely they had disowned him when he disappeared during their time of need. Regardless, it was a moot point: they were dead or gone and, while he was back now, no one was here to make him answer to them. More importantly, though, he wanted nothing to do with the horrible legacy they’d left behind. And he especially didn’t want Remi, of all people, to think of him in that light. Maybe letting that burst of anger out had been a mistake, though, since even just the anxiety in Loren’s voice from earlier had caused the alchemist to pull back. It was an all too familiar sight to the librarian, and another crack appeared in his careful mask. Seeing as he was about to disagree with the other man, Loren knew it was going to get a whole lot worse. In fact, he looked down so he wouldn’t have to watch the Attuned any longer. It was too painful to meet the alchemist’s gaze or see all the small motions Loren had once cherished. “Begging your pardon, but I’m less worried about someone getting in than something getting out. And there’s always a way to get around even the strongest magic. Especially because you said you made five keys, so it’s already designed to open under certain conditions.” Surely if there was a key here then Remi would’ve offered it, but Loren just didn’t know anymore. He hesitated, then decided to change tactics, desperate for anything that would get him out of here sooner. “Moreover, it seems like these monsters are experts at getting into places they shouldn’t, and I would hate to leave them an opening just because we thought we were secure and that all the entrances and exits to the manor had been sealed.” If nothing else, otherworldly monsters with powers they didn’t quite understand should do the trick where regular people didn’t. It was sad, but Loren was impressed that he was managing to keep his composure. It certainly felt like it would slip away at any moment. But the fact that Remi had so obviously changed made it easier. It was just the familiar things that were hard to bear. As the Launceleyn was still looking down and away, he missed it when the alchemist fluttered his lashes and shook his head. It was a good thing too, because it allowed Loren to actually pay attention to the Attuned’s words. With dawning horror, the librarian listened to Remi’s admission that he had basically no idea where the keys were. While Loren didn’t quite get what Remi was saying about making new keys—and Remi knowing more than Loren about even a specific type of magic would’ve been shocking under literally any other circumstance—it seemed far less important to hunt down the ones that already existed. The other man surely must understand the implications of what he was saying, but apparently not. Loren’s worry about how the other man might react to another outburst was dwarfed by the terrible thought that Jace or Beatrix might accidentally find a key and stumble upon one of these doors and unleashed something terrible. His head shot up, and he gave the alchemist a panicked look. “Wait, are you telling me that all five keys are unaccounted for? So even if I trusted your guarantee that no one could get in without one, it’s entirely possible that someone or something out there has one? Or could find one?” The Launceleyn didn’t mean for his words to come out so accusatory, but between the difficulty of being in Remi’s presence and the new terror that these mysterious sealed rooms could be opened at any moment, he’d lost any semblance of control. Spinning on his heel, he practically ran to the front door of the workshop. He had to get home, now, and turn the manor upside down until he was sure there were no keys there. Or, if he found one, he would have to open every door and confront whatever was inside it. But even as his hand closed on the door knob and flung the door open Loren realized that while those were important, he was still making a mistake and running away from his problems again; that he was running towards another one didn’t make any difference. He'd promised that he wouldn't hide from his mistakes and issues any longer, and this was no exception. Although he'd had a moment of weakness earlier, he could make up for it now. So he halted, one foot out of the workshop, door knob still held in a white-knuckled grip. “You really don’t recognize me, do you?” It took every ounce of strength and willpower Loren had left not to bolt out that door and say those words. And he hadn’t even gotten to the hard part yet. LOREN Not quite an open book