Lancelot nods, glances down. He does not owe Magnus an explanation, his time, anything. Even so. Magnus is, he understands (he thinks), trying to help.

He doesn't look up when he responds. He's willing to be honest but any additional vulnerability will be too much. (And besides, Magnus has already seen everything -- nearly everything -- that's dogging him.) "When I first arrived here, I did not even understand that I had been harmed. No, rather, I did not understand that I had been wronged. It took many conversations with Galahad, Laertes, Sagramore, Susan, to come to this realization. It has not been easy."

"Being here, things are very different. At court, after... Elaine, the Queen's reaction, every day was like," he shakes his head, "I don't know. Being burned. There was no relief or rest, and I would not take any of Arthur's comfort. That made it very easy, very likely, for me to lash out so I understand your concern. But here, there has been rest. I'm not being wounded, freshly, every day. My friends, and even Galahad, have given me other ways to understand things. When it overtakes me now, it is not like rage. I don't want to describe it, but maybe you know."