[By the time Merlin turns back from the fridge, his pleasantly mild expression has shifted into something much closer to a grave sort of sympathy; he looks at Roxy through his Kingsman glasses and doesn't say anything as he moves back to the little kitchen table he'd been sitting at before they came downstairs. It's only when he's settled and takes a bracing sip of his coffee that he opens his mouth.]

He asked me if I thought Harry'd made a mistake, picking him.

[He suddenly sounds so tired, weary in a way that he hasn't outwardly seemed since that night back at HQ when she set the kitchen on fire. He's been making more of an effort to look after himself since then, but with the impending anniversary of his friend's death and his boss' betrayal, well, things are hitting close to home.

Pulling off his glasses, he rubs at his eyes for a moment before sliding them back on and turning back to his breakfast as if everything was totally normal.]

I told him of course he hadn't, and not to ask me stupid questions. I don't think he remembers that part, though.