He knows it. The situation had filtered through. Shutting himself away did not make him blind to the world, much as he'd often wished it might; it just let him recede far enough from the front of their shared consciousness that all input took on a distant, third-person quality, as though looking through a fogged pane of very dense glass. He'd hidden behind it, but he could not claim blindness to everything that passed without him. Just... distance.

Oz draws tighter, quieter, and breathes a tiny sigh.

"No, I imagine not. And I'm sure my similarly abrupt arrival cannot be easy for him." Nor for you, he does not say, but perhaps it's clear enough from the way his gaze rises to regard Oscar again. "Whatever you may think of me, please know that I greatly value trust, Oscar. I do not make light of the faith placed in me by those like Qrow, who have stood at my side all these years. The secrets I have kept were not kept out of malice."