It takes a moment before he answers, but it's clear he's trying to find the right words, which is a rarity for a man who normally has words in excess. "His anger was easy. And to be honest, I usually deserved it. Not for pushing back, as debate was always fine, but for taking it too far just to get that notice. Like sticking your hand in a fire just to feel something warm, when you could just stand by the fireplace instead."

He shrugs. "But when he smiles at me, when he... It's even warmer, somehow, than that flame ever was, but less sharp. I never knew it was something I could have, and now that I do, the thought of losing it is terrifying. And I know me. It would be so easy to squander."