Faolan left his seat, glancing at Aurel before both he and Lucien exited the bus. The teenager would know what he meant.

He lead Lucien a little way away from the bus so their conversation would not be overheard. Though he knew that Illyana was a smart girl, and she was probably preparing herself for an inquisition, he wanted to make sure that he and Lucien were on the same page about what they were supposed to do next. 

When he was confident that they would not be listened to, he turned to Lucien and crossed his arms. [color=a36209]"That poor girl..."[/color] he said this very quietly, more so than he needed to, and dropped his eyes to the floor. Despite the persona that the Irishman usually wore, this experience had humbled and softened him. He felt this girl's pain in the same way that he felt Aurel's, but the barrier she had put up between herself and others was particularly troublesome to him. 

He bit his lip, sighed, then uncrossed his arms and hooked his hand behind his neck. [color=a36209]"Lucien, I don't want to...but we have to know what's going on. She needs to tell us everything, the truth...or we won't be able to help her."[/color] Though his words were harsh, his tone was soft and calm. He looked into his lover's eyes, hoping that the man would not see how deeply this had effected him. Sympathy was not an emotion that Faolan was used to processing, and this had been...just a little too much for him.