Laertes permits himself a long inhale. This is the form of domination he's least ready for, the kind he dreads giving the most. His father did not raise him to win debates on their merits; he raised Laertes to acquiesce under a torrent of words, no longer sure what any of the premises were or how to measure whether he had succeeded. Persuasion has only ever been a means by which he has been made to cede power.

Sagramore had said that Claudius wanted persuasion not to cavil with him, but because he wanted to know that Laertes would answer goading with kindness and control. That he would be worthy of the trust placed in him.

That, perhaps, Laertes can do.

"Open thy mouth, sweet," says Laertes, letting his hand fall to grip Lucien's jaw.