If nothing else, Sylvain is obedient. He drops the mask, and it's an immediate change. The brightness in his normally soft eyes dims, and he can't quite meet Felix's gaze. His expression is painfully neutral for a moment, and then it is a sad, horrible extension of all the inner cynicism he hides from most people.

"I'm sorry."

He means it. He is. He's sorry for so much he doesn't even know he did or didn't do. Because apparently he's been here, and apparently he's left.

Sylvain doesn't know what to say besides that though. What can he? Felix is right, he doesn't know what's going on. He only has bits and pieces of a story, and he's filling in the gaps with expectations of his poor behavior. To him, it makes sense to. The obvious answer is often the right one.

"I'm so sorry."