There's a light, small shrug of Holland's shoulders, soft but there. There's no dismissive quality to it at all--hell, Holland gets it. If someone came poking around about Holly, he'd probably be just as wary.

He just wishes that damn pout wasn't so distracting. Fuck. And that hand, too. March breaths through his nose, tries to cover it up like he's pontificating and not easily swayed.

"He's not in trouble. Just got a brother that's concerned for him, Lily."