"Well." He snorts softly, nosing up against the underside of Sam's jaw. It's warming, a little, to know that Sam doesn't have the words. That he managed his goal- but more than any of that? He'd made his point. Felix might've had Sam for eight years- but he'd fucked up. Taylor? Isn't going to fuck this up.

He's being careful. He's taking care.

"It wasn't all for him, you know. Most of it was for you." Like always. "But yeah, I made him pop. Didn't even know I could do that."