[Hayame isn't wrong to point out that he will need to tend his Discord sooner or later — and probably sooner, if he insists on staying away from Springstar to assist with efforts here. He knows perfectly well that he cannot simply ignore it and pretend he's fine, as he often does when he's starved for blood. His condition will only get worse; should something unexpected happen, he could end up in nearly the same position as Manon, running wild in the forest just to avoid harming anyone in his untethered state.

But to some extent, submitting to purification means submitting to being seen, to being known. And it has been a long, long time since he has trusted anyone to know him better than was absolutely necessary.]

Yes… you are not wrong.

[His fingers find the fabric of his jacket collar; twitch it a bit more even on his shoulders, compulsively.]

I wasn't referring to intimate touch, though. Rather… being tended by someone. That, I'm unused to.

[Because she has not objected to his presence, Liem moves further into the tent, to perch on a small, makeshift bench that has been placed within for seating. He does not look like he's taking his ease; the tension living in him makes him appear ready to leap back up at a moment's notice.]

But perhaps I did myself a disservice after all, by not attending the masquerade. I understand it provided no shortage of opportunities for people to seek succour from one another.