As recognition trickles in, filling the gaps in his understanding, the knot between his eyebrows slackens into surprise. He looks away, feeling like a door left wide open for everyone to step through. When he looks back, he's closed his expression up, but the edges of his discomfort poke through, a jumble of embarrassment, hurt, and regret. Wilhelm stares at the mask that confirms she's the "boy" he met that night at the Vermillion Palace.

He has revisited that night a dozen times, cringing at his desperation, questioning if his attraction went deeper than the disguise, revising his words and actions until they're unrecognizable. In all of the emotions tangled around the evening, though, anger is absent. It burned off before the night ended.

"Okay," is all he says for a long moment. His shoulders slope into a sigh and he shakes his head. His hands fly out of his pockets to fuss with his hair instead, smoothing it back only for it to flop into his eyes again. "I should apologize too. I...shouldn't have flipped out like that. And I shouldn't have...touched you without making sure it was okay first. I just got carried away, and that's my fault. So I'm sorry."

Finally, he looks right at Abby. Not at the mask, not over her shoulder somewhere.

"So why did you...?"