The way that she looks at him after those words shows just how deeply they cut through to her - as if she wears no armour, as if there is no defence at all, shattered to her very core. It seemed impossible before that her skin might go more pale, that Six might lose herself completely, but all colour is removed from her features; she seems more like a ghost, staring at the man in front of her with wide eyes and hands that cannot seem to stop shaking.

He jerks, moves, defends, and Six wishes to cry. She thinks she might fall to her knees and collapse completely, that she would bow her head and offer her own blood in repayment to his but it would not be enough. Nothing would be enough when all she wants is to touch him and take him in her arms, when the intensity of his voice and his word is enough to show that he wants nothing to do with her.

Voice hoarse, quiet, desperate, she tries to speak.

"Yes." It is her fault; she distracted him, was not strong enough, did not have a bond, an oath, powers. He wished to protect her and laid his life down for it - and it was that, in the end, that lead him to his death. She cannot deny that, at heart, she was the one that caused him to fall, not the men carrying their blades. "I was the one who was not enough. I failed you and you died. The blame is mine."

Her eyes close and the tears come, falling gently, soft on her pale cheeks. She bows her head and wishes that this was over, that the knife would come to her throat and give her the peace she wants. It would hurt less than this.