[For a moment, Dorian felt like he could walk in there and do the deed himself. It would be easy to pick up the knife, or not even waste time doing to, and strangle the words out of that man's mouth until he can never speak to his son like that again. But entering that room would be just as unsatisfying as when Byerly threw the glass, and there are greater priorities right in front of him.
He moves around the man to slam the door shut, then turns back around to fit his arms around Byerly. He's not particularly well-versed in embraces—he doesn't know if he should be holding him this tightly, where to put his hands, or if he should at all, but it felt like the right thing to do and there isn't any going back now.]
You aren't those things. [He says, still shaken, but stern.] You know that. She knows that. I know that.
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He moves around the man to slam the door shut, then turns back around to fit his arms around Byerly. He's not particularly well-versed in embraces—he doesn't know if he should be holding him this tightly, where to put his hands, or if he should at all, but it felt like the right thing to do and there isn't any going back now.]
You aren't those things. [He says, still shaken, but stern.] You know that. She knows that. I know that.