Claudius nods through each point, curling close by Laertes's side, curling down the sleeves of cardigan to make himself more comfortable there. He understands why Galahad wears the sleeves of his sweater down, how soothing it is to run his fingers over the ribbing in the wool. Soothing enough that it doesn't hit Claudius like he feared it would, he knew not about the blood parasites until I told him -- he'd been hoping Sagramore didn't know at all, and he thought it would sting like betrayal if he was wrong. Sagramore doesn't have the character Galahad does, to see without urging when Claudius is sheltering some secret hurt or to carelessly challenge Luo Binghe on Claudius's behalf. As much as Claudius loves and adores Galahad for it, it was careless. So Claudius understands how, as a different man, Sagramore would err on the side of believing all's well. That point makes sense, and so do all the others.

Nevertheless, he finds himself pausing with his face hidden against Laertes's shoulder a little longer, just in case some bitter feeling arises in him and he can't control his expression expertly enough. "It follows," he says. "Well, I cannot fault Sagramore for feeling more strongly about those he loves most. I love that tendency in him. I love his strong-heartedness."