“I need my friend,” Lambert answers, emphasis heavy on the ‘friend.’ “But lately, he’s been a little busy with his other friend, and it feels like he only listens to what I say only when it fits in with something that can help them, or if it’s something that fit into what he wanted to do anyway. Considering he’s taken every chance he can to tell me I’m wrong about that friend or that he’s a better friend than I am instead of letting me form my own opinions, I’m kind of sick of hearing about them. So that’s kind of limited our conversation topics.”

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, groaning.

“I can’t do anything right. Either I’m not showing any trust in your or your abilities, or I’m someone who only cares about your magic when I do ask you to use it.” He exhales. “If I’m being honest, a lot of your recent decisions have focused on Ignatius, not the rest of us. And that’s fine, but ... I miss when it didn’t feel that way.”