[ She knows what it looks like when people destroy themselves on purpose. Has seen it often enough in her husband, in her lover, in the mirror. Watches him quietly for a time, feels the gusts of autumn's newly-sharpened wind try to slip through the gaps in her cloak. ]

Perhaps I should be ashamed that we have been acquainted this many years and yet I do not know whether you prefer to be dragged kicking and screaming to what someone else believes is kindness or to be left to hurt yourself in peace.

[ Things that aren't really acceptable to say in either of their country's gilded halls for 2 gold, Alex. ]

Or, perhaps I should be ashamed of how many years I spent with my knife to her throat. [ A pause. Then, specified: ] Kindness.