Her words are a reassurance, but Sean fights it tooth and nail anyway, refusing to let himself believe it's that simple. "As real as we can be, I s'pose," he sighs, anger giving way to something sadder, drawing his knees up to lean forward and rest his elbows against them. All he wants right now is to be able to tell someone, tell her that he feels terrible for all of it, all those things he used to feel so justified about, like getting it out there is what it'll take to make it worth something. Why should that be so much to ask for? And why should it even matter?

"It's nae fair t'ye, though. Holdin' back. Ye should know who it is ye're dealin' with 'fore there's a we ta speak of." As long as he's believed that to be true, however, he knows as soon as it's out of his mouth that it's just another cop-out. This has nothing to do with her potentially hating him for what he did, and everything to do with the way he always, on some level, has.