This time, Mithrun's tail snaps against the ground - or tries to, at least. The layer of snow is a bit of an unrequested cushion. "I am not letting him slide. He's-- pushing, even if his mouth is shut, I'm not just going along with it."

He grips his arms tightly, his gaze fixed on some point in the snow - but his voice is quieter when he speaks. "I won't. I didn't."