[ The anger is so strange. So altogether strange. He hasn't told this story to many people - a dozen or so, right after when he was disinherited, and fewer and fewer as the years go by - and not many of them have taken his father's side. True. But no one has ever reacted with this rawness, this fury. No one has cursed dear old Leon Vorrutyer, no one has spat with rage over him...Just vague sympathy, a disgruntlement over how quick to judge he was. Or frustration with Byerly for being so quick to make bad choices. Fury, though, and a passionate declamation of how wonderful Byerly is -

He finds himself growing oddly...flustered. Now, By is smooth, cool, suave, quick-witted, so truly, being flustered is out of the ordinary for him. But here he is, a hint of a flush coming into his face, rather at a loss for words. Awkwardly: ]

Now, now, dear fellow, that's...Don't get so worked up. I certainly wasn't some perfect angel aside from my sexuality. I made trouble. Quite a lot of it. [ And - ] I'm not a blessing. [ Anyway. ]