[ Some part of him, he can admit, had not anticipated her confession. He'd thought—he wasn't sure what was on her mind, precisely. Not this. Not that she's afraid he'll leave her over something she'd not even done.
Gently, he removes her wineglass before it can spill and takes her hand in his. ]
You aren't. [ He supposes, like Nadine, it's impossible for the question to lie dormant. He gets it. He does. It's one he's asked himself, too. Perhaps no straightforward answer exists. But they can't solely be defined by a past that haunts them nor a fear of what they could become. There has to be more. To him, she's more. ] And I will not abandon the people I love because it's difficult.
[ He didn't choose the easy road. He's here. With her, with Ciri. Dean. If others would call it a burden, then so be it. They've carried his as much as he's carried theirs, and he means to keep doing so. It feels especially important now after all they've been through together.
He doesn't care what cost to his life. How painful. He's paid it before. He'll do it again. ]
no subject
Gently, he removes her wineglass before it can spill and takes her hand in his. ]
You aren't. [ He supposes, like Nadine, it's impossible for the question to lie dormant. He gets it. He does. It's one he's asked himself, too. Perhaps no straightforward answer exists. But they can't solely be defined by a past that haunts them nor a fear of what they could become. There has to be more. To him, she's more. ] And I will not abandon the people I love because it's difficult.
[ He didn't choose the easy road. He's here. With her, with Ciri. Dean. If others would call it a burden, then so be it. They've carried his as much as he's carried theirs, and he means to keep doing so. It feels especially important now after all they've been through together.
He doesn't care what cost to his life. How painful. He's paid it before. He'll do it again. ]