Balthier clenches his jaw, lips pursed even as he sighs. He sees what's happening: insistence on being fine on one's own, a fixation on some external crisis that will somehow fix everything, hells, a fixation on conspiracy, even if it's in all likelihood an actual conspiracy.

And it hurts, because Balthier knows that being able to trace the shape of all this doesn't make him any more equipped to help Peter through it. And maybe no one could have helped him through it, even if they'd tried. Maybe people had tried and he'd brushed them away too.

What was the point of empathy if it didn't let him reach someone else? Why was he still fighting for a kinder existence when this was all there ever was?

No. Not right now.

"Well you are more clever or more committed to yourself than I am; Nolan is very much still mixed up in mine." And Ffamran.

Peter's voice softens for the last bit. Well, he'll take getting through in some way.

"I am constantly afraid," Balthier says. His voice is low; it's more honest than he means. "I just got used to it at some point. If I felt miserable either way, I might as well get something for it, right? Though -- lately there have been more good days." He gives a weak smile, aware how utterly unheroic he sounds. That's the other way he's gotten through. Bravado. "Also I had top notch acting lessons."