There's nothing she can do to make him if he doesn't want to and it's not like she tells him every little thing. It's not like she tells him every big thing either. She can't do anything about it, but that really only makes her even less satisfied with that answer. All the same, all she can really do is walk over to him, combing her fingers through his hair to rest against his neck as she bends down to kiss his head.

"And when do I have any of those?" she asks, a little weary, if only with herself. There's no judgment here. She's never really had any right to judge. "I'm not going in. We don't have to talk, but I'm not going back to bed."