Arthur closes his mouth, and makes fists with his hands, working to pull himself the fuck together. If his fingernails weren't so short they would be biting into his palms.

It's the change in Crichton's voice that really hammers home how he's acting, not towards a puppet of the King, but towards a person and a friend. He doesn't miss the depth of the implication of that right now, but... it only gets a pin in it, one of many pins.

"I'm sorry," he says, because that seems so much more important to start off with. His voice is tight, but under control; his face has ceased to be outright terrified and instead settled on what one might consider a baseline level of sorrow and anxiety.

Does he mean sorry for being a prick? Or sorry for Crichton having to deal with a guy in his head? Why not both.

Jesus christ. Crichton has one too. Jesus christ.

"In my world... several people have, have tried very suddenly to kill me because they were influenced by him." He says it because he owes Crichton some kind of explanation, some fraction of the trust he's more than earned. "But I... I know he's not here. I know that's not you. I'm sorry. I- I was startled."