[ For him, there's a difference between knowing and knowing. And Rogue's admittance, her frustration so palpable, it hits him square in the chest.

Touch, that's all it takes. A fingertip, the swipe of a cheek, featherlight. This place is going to be hell for her, just as she says.

He breathes out slow, silence stretching on his end because what is there to say? Platitudes are nothing. But maybe, maybe a little honesty will work. ]

Look, we were brought here under false pretenses. I don't think you'd agree to come if you knew the machinations behind it all. I know that doesn't exactly make it better, but it is something to take into account.