And he presses his face to Ren's hair, matted or not, heart pounding. This was the point, the centre of the operation: to let Ren deteriorate, so he'd have no choice but to ask for help. That was the cold, cruel core of it.

I'm sorry, he thinks inanely. I'm sorry I'm sorry I take it back. Perhaps he really is just as bad as his father. "I, um," he manages, dry-mouthed. "All right. If you still want this tomorrow morning, I'll tell the others. And we can begin, I suppose."

He doesn't say anything like it won't be as bad as you think.