...of course it was what I wanted. But I am all too aware of your-- disdain, for the place, and there was nowhere else I could go at night-- I could not ask you to keep coming simply for my own sake.

You always had more interest in such things, either way. But you ceased to ask.

[A slight shrug tugs at one shoulder, there, lets it fall just as easily to sag back into place. He's a perceptive person; he'd noticed the days stretch out between propositions, until they eventually stopped.]

I suppose in that sense, I ought to have seen it coming... but you never spoke much of him either, despite his apparent hold upon your heart.

[He glances up, there, though his head doesn't quite lift, dulled yellow eyes a sliver of color against his lashes. A question he doesn't quite bring himself to ask, of how close they actually have been.]