[ Lucky. Yes, that makes the bitterness very clear.

He watches Qrow cry, his own shoulders sagging. In every lifetime there is a moment like this, someone of whom he is fond enough that it hurts all the more when things finally crumble. They do not usually fall to pieces this completely. He doesn't usually lose all his secrets all at once. He doesn't usually have every wrenching beat of the story laid out in full detail for everyone to watch.

He'd never expected it would be Qrow he'd grow so fond of, when he first found a fierce and terrified boy skulking through the halls of his academy. He had hoped for, but not dared to anticipate, loyalty like this. Trust like this. And here it is in shards.

You would've just used me until my life was spent. He cannot deny the grain of truth in it. Someday, Qrow will die. And Oz will move on. He will find another boy to take under his wing, and he will let Qrow fade from his memory. It is easier when he does. It is easier when he lets the names and faces blur, and lives with the amorphous guilt of turning away from their memories, rather than the acute hurt of each individual wound.

Don't ever lie to me again. How he would like to promise that and mean it. If only the world were so simple.

He breaks first: he looks away. ]

You now know the full story. The full truth. There is nothing more to keep from you.

[ There is a note of pleading in it. ]

I did not lie about what I saw in you, Qrow. I still see it now.