The heaviness in his chest loosens its tight grip at the sound of another, kinder, voice. It gets him to turn his attention away from this masked farce of himself that sneers at him. Instead looking to his left, another mirror that shows nothing but his pained expression.

What's unfortunate to the both of them, is that she's just another person he doesn't recognize. Someone from his home, sure, but not a familiar face for Thancred to allow himself to soften at. He does appreciate the attempt at gentleness, though.

Yet the figure seems to know him, or at the very least his involvement. Which catches him off-guard enough to face her. His eyes look up, she's got a good few inches on him.

"Do what you must. I've grown tired of these mirrors." He mutters, returning his gunblade to its place at his back for the moment.

Thancred won't, noticeably, return his gaze to the mirror with Lahabrea. No matter what Wisteria might do.