[Hope's gaze lingers on Lightning for a long moment, and then he heaves a sigh, settling back against the couch and closing his eyes.]

...okay. We can... we can try it. I-I guess.

[Though he doesn't actually verbally offer Sigmund a seat, he shuffles over to make room on the couch anyway, opening his eyes and letting them flicker over the man's form—as if trying to see where that strange glow had come from, and then his gaze falls upon the suppressant again.]

So you... you have some kind of brand too? Or... well, you said it was called a glyph. Is it a curse like ours?