[The observant detective in him notices, even now, how uncomfortable she looks. It makes him want to say something gentler, to dig up his kindness and his caring from the mountain of misery they're buried under, even though it would only be a different form of retreat. She's been so kind to him (and, more importantly, to people he cares about more than himself)--but Luke has never been fair, and to him, that kindness is all the more reason to protect her from painful truths.
But he knows her better than he once did. He doesn't think she'll be satisfied or turned away so easily. So... he considers, deciding how to share just enough to keep them both afloat.]
...They weren't happy experiences, no. [...] We were pitted against each other.
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But he knows her better than he once did. He doesn't think she'll be satisfied or turned away so easily. So... he considers, deciding how to share just enough to keep them both afloat.]
...They weren't happy experiences, no. [...] We were pitted against each other.