[ Now, Faraday thinks. I know that's bullshit.

And though he keeps the thought unvoiced, a bit of it shows in the narrowing of his eyes, the twist of his mouth.

He takes a breath – or at least, he appears to take a breath, though the air hardly seems to notice his efforts – in an effort to quell his annoyance. ]

Alright, then.

[ Low, quiet. ]

Assumin' what you're sayin' is true, assumin' Emma actually wants me here, then—

What is it you're tryin' to tell me, exactly? That I ought to help her— I dunno. Let go? Move on?