What heart? [ The moment of seriousness has come, settled, made it's strike and gone as though it were never here. ] I cannot undermine that which I do not carry.

[ His smile, should she see it, is self depreciating and wry, faintly bitter in it's humor. Once he may have had a heart. He left it to bleed out on the cobblestones years ago.

Gently, he reaches up to touch her cheek and urge her to look at him clearly. ]

Bright smiles and hopeful song. Or a warm bed full of lovely women. [ Here, the teasing arch of his brow, the twist of humor to his voice. ] How can a world full of such beauty ever be so dark, mm?