Iestyn was organising things on the kitchen island, his lips pursed tightly as he focused on tipping old leaky takeaway boxes into a rubbish bag. Ewww, gross... But he couldn't exactly say he wouldn't help, not when Henry was determined to do so. Not after everything Henry had said Hermes did for him.
And his father was a literal saint, what would he say about helping the needy?
Different sort of needy. But it still applied.
"Yeah, it's okay," he said, only sounding slightly resigned to his fate.