She listens, a lump forming in her throat. There have been enough tears over the last few days to last her a lifetime, she thinks, but they still come.

He's so close, she can't help but brush her knuckles over his jaw, feeling the tension in him.

'I'm not pissed now, Gene. I am a mess, you're right about that. But I'm not -- that night -- I told you, I didn't take your world seriously then. I do now. I take you seriously. I take this seriously.'

She catches his hand at her hip and brings it to her heart again, covering it with her own and holding it there.

'I can wait. But this isn't something fleeting, or at least it doesn't feel like that to me. After all we've been through, St. Joseph's and Farringfield Green... I can wait as long as you like, if it proves to you just how much I want this to work.'

She manages to keep the tears from her voice all the way through, but only just.