When Ellis rises, it's a sudden enough movement to startle away one intrepid chicken. A squawk and flap of wings sees the creature hopping ungainly around to the far edge of the tin as Ellis straightens up to his full height. He wrings his hands as he turns away and then back, as if thinking better of whatever urge would have propelled him to pace away from her.

"I could never be ashamed. Not of either of you."

It would help if he sounded less wretched over it, maybe.

"Your friendship is more than I deserve, more than I ever expected when I came here. And I—"

A place where his voice breaks, words coming apart as he struggles to find something true to tell her. (It is the wrong moment to think of Cathán, but he does; remembers a similar argument ending in shouting and departures.) There are so many parts of his life he doesn't want to ever touch Wysteria's.

"I'm ashamed of myself," is what he settles on. "Not you. Never, ever you, Wysteria."