[Wirt grits his teeth, running his hands through his hair, careful to avoid the branches protruding from it.]

I can't take them off. I-you should know that.

[The anger Wirt shows isn't his usual nervous, anxious anger. It's genuine anger, and hurt, and hatred. Hatred for these people who won't just shut up and give in and make this much, much easier for him.]

You should know a lot of what's happening, if you think you have any chance of leaving this place.

[Not, in the end, that he thinks you do.]