[viktor snorts softly at that laugh, running his thumb along pal's as he considers. a breaking point, it did seem the most concise way of putting it. after a beat he says,] For a long time it feels there has been a pressure, in the neutrality you give certain matters, in how you try to offer people the tools to help themselves but, perhaps, see those tools thrown aside for easier paths.

I do not know, I have simply noticed a strain, I suppose. [he settles back a little against the couch, ready to say more when there's a knock. he untangles with a kiss to pal's forehead like an apology, using rio rather than his cane to get to the door.

abigail brushes off him trying to take the tray, moving in to place it on the low table near the couch, chipped teacups and some sort of little cakes she points at pal then viktor and says 'eat, the plate best be cleaned,' before she is off with the sort of oath on a woman raised by fishermen would say under her breath.

viktor returns, amused despite himself, more that abigail maybe has started taking to pal. he settles beside him, pressed up close again.]