The Grisha seems to catche himself the moment that sympathetic smile turns to him. The Darkling's lips turn up into a half-smile, though only for a few seconds as he tears his gaze away from the fire. He dips his head into a small nod, and for a brief moment he seems apologetic.

"Quite," he says softly, and visibly pulls himself back together--his shoulders move back to how they'd been before, stiff and regal, back returning to his usual straight posture. He clears his throat. Enough thoughts of the tracker boy, enough dwelling on the girl who betrayed him, enough of the world sought him out to be the villain.

Time to tug on that thread he'd seen in the other, the little part that had been peaking out, just a little frayed.

"What had you been playing?"