Lucius has to wonder whether he'll ever completely feel at ease again. This is verging on close to it, but there are too many cases of faulty wiring for him to ever simply settle and enjoy a thing. As far as he can ascertain, Vanessza has left his own business up to him, which he grudgingly must admit is for the better, but for a time, he isn't completely consumed by some variation of self-loathing.

Which is nice.

But some fresh concern is known when Vanessza opts to introduce-- scissors?-- into the scenario, Lucius regarding her suspiciously from his recline on her bed, where he does sort of look out of place. Everything is very neat and prim. It is not an affect he specialises in.

"I beg your pardon?"