Gideon doesn't know how to interpret this place or the souls that surround them. Felix's unspoken explanations would be of some use, but given what a dilettante the man can be in the best of times, Gideon would likely need to do some research of his own, anyway. A pity (and a relief) Simon and Rinaldo aren't here.

He wants to take Felix's hand, but in the presence of the castle's residents--and worse, in a death's-land that looks nothing like the oblivion he longed for--is begging for trouble. In private, perhaps, when he finds out exactly why Felix is showing him such kindness, and when there's no one to witness the terms of their relationship.

(And perhaps after Felix gives him a reason to absolve him of the events of the last few weeks. Gideon hasn't forgiven, nor has he forgotten, and as drawn as he is to Felix, he isn't pleased with him.)

He shakes his head minutely at Felix, a silent refusal of his hand.

:I could meet you there after.: He can think of little he'd like less than to accompany Felix through plates of food and conversations, in neither of which he can take any part. Gideon doesn't envy Mildmay's place as Felix's stoop-shouldered shadow, and he won't take it. :I'll only slow you down here.: