If there was even the faintest shred of hope that he could ever tell Lotte who he really was, it was all but extinguished now. She was so nervous and on-edge already, and that was only as a result of a brief mention of the catacombs. If he told her right now that his fable was Erik, she would probably do whatever possible to get away from him. She wouldn't listen, not really, and there was no chance that she would keep his identity a secret. It seemed hopeless, and for a moment he felt a surge of frustrated helplessness that made him want to destroy everything in sight. Instead he focused on his breathing, trying to calm himself down to a reasonable level.
Bran had no problem with the silence, flicking the flashlight on and off to amuse himself before realizing that Lotte might find it annoying and stopping. When he thought enough time had passed, he got to his feet and took a few steps in her direction. "Do you want to wait a little longer, or start heading up again?"