Lance stared at him.
"You'll hurt me," he said quietly. "And then you'll come looking for me. And I'll be a fool and fall for it every single time. That's how you do it. That's how you keep me within reach."
Ansel held the umbrella steady.
"I've made you cry too much," he said. "This wasn't how you expected today to go, was it."
He reached out slightly, a reflex, his hand moving toward Lance's face.
Lance pulled back before he could get there.
Ansel let his hand drop without comment.
Lance looked at him.
"You older men are absolute scums," he said flatly.
Ansel laughed.
It came out genuine, short and surprised and warm in a way that was deeply unfair given the circumstances.
"Then you shouldn't have fallen for one," he said.
Lance cut him a look that could have stripped paint.
