If there's any visible relief, it's slim; Severus isn't inclined to be terribly emotive unless he's furious, and he's far from it now. (Paranoid, yes, but that's the default state of things.) He's made a bit more easy by that, anyway - while he might not hate seeing Narcissa, or even her husband, of his contemporary age, and it isn't as if he ever hated Rosier, there's just... too much, already, welled up in his life like dried blood waiting to crackle back open. He must stay apart still.
It helps that he can tell Lucius isn't lying.
(Because he can tell when anyone isn't lying.)
"As you say." They. He knows where this man stands, at least. "I'm not inclined to it." Under some bizarre Muggle woman's thumb, leashed along with her pet monsters.
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It helps that he can tell Lucius isn't lying.
(Because he can tell when anyone isn't lying.)
"As you say." They. He knows where this man stands, at least. "I'm not inclined to it." Under some bizarre Muggle woman's thumb, leashed along with her pet monsters.