Honeyed Pasture take off all the thoughts of what we've been

Many things happened at once, then; the stranger started to stutter an apology, and Cortland immediately felt bad, but— Phocion was suddenly there. Phoci— It was barely more than a whisper, cut off by both the priest and the stranger— Engel, it seemed. Overwhelmed, Cortland fixed his gaze on the ground for a few beats, ears still flat against his skull.
When Engel mentioned leaving, the Mayfair's tail tucked between his legs and his expression fell further. He hadn't wanted it to be like that. Sorry, This time it was a whisper, almost choked in the way all his words would be now— then it hit him. Words. Words. Cortland swallowed hard, eyes going to Phocion immediately; his own expression was unreadable.