[ There's a quirk to Hei's lips that might or might not pass for a smile. He leans forward, hands folded in his lap, and regards her. His level gaze inquires, assesses, though his head is pounding and exhaustion and nausea makes his stomach churn. There's a patch of thoughtful silence, unbroken except by the susurration of water, before his gaze falls. ]

I wanted to ask, [ he says, affecting a nonchalance despite the tension in his jaw ] if I said right now, that I won't come near you again, that taking up with you was a mistake, that I made a bigger one by refusing to acknowledge that, what would you do? [ A slow breath. ] Would you be relieved? Or just angry that I'm taking your choices away?