[Cyrus shrugs. Sure they can talk! He's not entirely certain why Brontë seems to cranky about this. This is for his benefit! So the pining and heartache can stop.]

Sure, we'll talk later, Bron.

[Most people say thank you for presents. Ah well.

Orym is still staring as he starts to put together what's happened here, bit by bit. Clearly this was not Dorian's idea, and he's not sure where to begin. But then those hands are at his face and the tension in him eases. He sets a hand over one of Dorian's, leaning into the touch.]

I'm good, yeah. I'm not hurt. They told me someone had bought my debt...

[A glance past Dorian at Cyrus, who waves. Yes, that was him. He is the mastermind. ...and it's about here he mutters something about giving them privacy and moves to leave, shutting the door behind him.]

And they brought me here. They didn't even let me get my things, so I couldn't let you know...