There's a lot that he wants to say, wants to scream actually, but nothing wants to come out except for a nervous sound that he can barely recognize as belonging to him. So he does as he's told, righting his chair and sitting back down in it, though he's careful to keep his space from Xav- no. Edward.
His tongue flicks out to wet lips that had started drying rapidly, and it's a moment before he can gather himself together. Then there's a smile, bright and wholly false, and Lucas is leaning forward with his hands folded atop the table. "It really is good to see you, Edward. It's been... what. 10 years since then? It's hard to keep track of time!" He's nervous, can taste sour on his tongue, but he's keeping his smile. It's his armour, after all.