Bran hadn't read the play in years, and he could barely remember any of it, but if he'd had to choose then the balcony scene would definitely come before acting out a double suicide. As uncomfortable as it might have been for Lotte, since they were hardly star-crossed lovers, he didn't allow himself to overthink it. After this was a haze of complications and emptiness, so if he could pretend for even a moment that he was someone entirely different, he would seize the opportunity with both hands.
He didn't flinch when she took his hand, he looked down at their joined hands with a mixture of confusion and surprise. Wasn't she afraid of him now? Why was she touching him?
Ella's question almost slipped by unheard, but he caught it at the last moment and turned to her with a blank expression. "About as much as I know about you." He didn't like being made to feel like some kind of dangerous animal, and he wasn't about to let Ella forget that he couldn't trust them any more than they could trust him. "It's very clear that you don't trust me, and I don't expect you to. But I don't have any reason to trust you either." Bran didn't owe her anything, certainly not a life story. There it was again, that annoying sense of self-righteousness that had annoyed him from the start. Maybe she hadn't learned anything after all.
When the balcony appeared he glanced at Lotte, gently slipping his hand free from hers. Once they got this over with, he wasn't sure if she'd ever see him willingly again, and he was far too cynical to hope.