He doesn't know if it would be any better. Nor does he completely care. He would rather try and fail a second time than not know. Maybe the time apart has glossed over all the pain. He knows it was there, but with distance all he can focus on is the good. The gentleness of his touch and generosity of his spirit was what he missed. If losing Ashura as a lover was what it took to have that again, even platonically, he would do it. For now there is only contempt and anger simmering between all three of them, and he can't bear that much longer.

Felix focuses on the shape of his name. It's easier to process than the rest of it. Part of him feels he's waited long enough, and that any longer would be unbearable, but the part of him that is still sanguine remembers that he'd granted his patience to Ashura once, and would rightly have to give it Gideon as well.

"What proof would you need?" he asked, his voice unsteady.