"Yes," Flynn says, crisp and sharp. The words drop like stones into clear water, carefully bitten off and shaped to cow. He isn't sure where he's pulling this from, but there's steel in his spine and his syllables alike. "You did. You were warned, and there will certainly be no additional investigation, normal or otherwise."

It lasts for a few seconds after that, stretching out into a ringing sort of silence before Flynn's age or his conscience or both pick at him, and he bites at his lip. It does sort of ruin the effect. So does the way his hair is starting to curl up in the steam.

"At least tell me this," he starts, almost conciliatory, certainly suspicious, "were you really trying to... make this normal? Or was it an excuse?"