[ He's quick to shake his head, even as Alhaitham's hand cups his cheek so gently. Since that argument between them those years ago, Kaveh has sometimes wondered what it would be like to have the other man's sense of morality. If the younger man has ever regretted anything, certainly never heard him admit it. Everything he says, he means. Everything he means, he says. Compared to the architect, who works himself into an anxious panic over even a perceived slight to someone else...

But it's just who they are. Perfect reflections of one another: Kaveh blaming himself for the actions of another, Alhaitham unable to fathom how such self-blame is possible. There's probably no point in trying to explain— but Kaveh tries anyway. ]

I know I'm not responsible for his conduct. He was an asshole all on his own. But— [ and his eyes drop, looking at the hollow of the scribe's throat rather than at his face ] —he's an asshole who wouldn't have even had a reason to cross paths with us had I not used him to try and make you jealous.

[ Because that was what he had done— he'd used him, that night, and taken pleasure in Alhaitham throwing him out because it meant he'd been seen by the person he really wanted. And maybe the other man says he didn't deserve anything that happened to him tonight... but when it comes down to it, maybe he did.

He sighs, trying to put that thought aside, because it's not going to help him right now. Instead, he tries on a small smile, a weak joke on his lips, changing the subject before he can quite help it: ]

You're really hot when you're mad.