Jonah touches his hair, unconsciously. It's a new gesture, they never used to fidget that way--not that this is necessary fidgeting now, he can just tell kinesthetically what Seth is looking at. "It's fine," he imparts in the vaguely fussed sense of tonelessness that had lambasted a lack of the Great Western Schism. "Just tedious. I'm not going to mess it up, if that's what you're worried about."
His tone is not unintentionally sharp; he lets it get that way, lets presumption regarding lack of confidence filter through his voice. But then he also sits down in the chair next to Seth, in exactly the same position, without even thinking about it, and so these things - the way things hang between them - teeter like a seesaw. Up. Down. Back. Forth. "So let's talk. We're going to go to school, I don't know what else you mean."