[Martin wishes that Algric's gesture of support could give him any semblance of bravery, and maybe it did for a fleeting second...but it withers with his mother's first word.]

N-no, no, Mum, we're still together. He's r-really wonderful, and h-he. He loves me, Mum, he really d-does.

[the smile on his face is so forced that it makes his jaw ache, made worse by the way his teeth want to chatter from stress alone. so he busies himself with the non-descript vase on his mother's bedside table; a staple next to every bed for guests to place the flowers they bring.]

Aren't-- Aren't these nice? Sunflowers this time. I thought they'd, um. Cheer you up. B-brighten the room.