Marco's stomach drops. But not as hard as when he slowly pieced together that Fiddleford was the one behind that post on the network, nor do his innards feel as cold. It really does help that he's telling Marco instead of letting him find out on his own, even if it still feels deeply unpleasant.

It takes a few seconds for him to say anything. Fiddleford isn't the only one being careful with his words.

"What for?"

The smile on his face is unnecessary, and wooden, and only there for the sake of politeness, but Marco wouldn't feel right if he didn't even make the effort.