K still fully expects to be rolled right over like Vrenille's leaf; he has learned to brace exactly like this over a lifetime of being ignored and being used in spite of his preferences, to reserve the most blatant refusals for the most distasteful of denials. He still doesn't quite know what to think of it when Vrenille lets himself be turned aside.

K's eyes slide towards him though he doesn't turn his head; he's still watching the tank but also, now, watching the other man.

"I know," he says as simply. "But it's different from the injections. It's just me, in the cell until I'm not. That or they're hiding something." But he's not afraid of that. He's not unwilling to suffer that if he gets to do so on his own terms.