[ It's the coolness of it all that bothers him more than anything else. He says it so easily, as if all of this has meant nothing, as if he feels nothing. That can't be true. He's held this man as he's confessed to his darkest moments, invited him in to help him mend after Eddie's attack, seen the ferocity with which he's insisted on Tim's protection. He knows that Aemond is not unfeeling. Something's gotten into him, and he's getting to the bottom of it. ]

You're lying. Or you have been, until now. Which is it?

[ Needling, looking for a reaction, any reaction, that isn't cold and stoic. Tim can't be that way. He's never even tried, useless as he knows it would be. He feels too deeply, gets attached too quickly. He blinks back tears as he presses on, itching for a raised voice in response, a fight, anything. ]

I thought I had a man, right here in front of me. But you're just a boy pretending, aren't you?