[It's heartbreaking, actually, that Viktor leaps so quickly to not having any data to offer - like he must be providing something if someone is to come after him to see if he's alright. Like it doesn't make Palamedes' throat tighten and stomach sink all the more when he leans into it, when he keeps fussing.]

How do you know I could? I thought you didn't have any data, [he says, and that might be mean if he didn't wiggle his hand free of Viktor's grip to cup his palm against his jaw entirely and chase silver back down. He shakes his head.]

Sorry, [soft,] High risk, high reward, right?

[He doesn't dare turn to see the double, to take his eyes off this Viktor and his retreating silver. Viktor's skin is cool to the touch from being out here who knows how long but it is skin, not metal, and Palamedes can only drink in these flashes of his righteous indignation with shocking relief, like all of his nerves catching fire in slow succession.

There's progress here, though, etched into the frustrated scolding Palamedes might otherwise pretend he very much does not deserve. He feels like he's been here before, has done this one already, has steadied a person like a glass on the verge of shattering and insisted, no—

Viktor adds another layer to it. Viktor leans into his touch and then scolds him for it, and Palamedes staunchly refuses to think of what happens if the double watching from behind him gets what it wants.]

No more time; this is enough. You've done plenty, Viktor— more than enough.