The second that faint gasp slips from her, she wants to take it back. It's not fair in a way, feeling guilty for that, when he can't expect her to be anything but shocked, when he's so casual about it that she's not even sure he wants any other reaction. She looks away, turns her head to the side, closing her eyes against all her thoughts. Grief does terrible things to people and love makes them do just as bad or worse. Love is what keeps her rationalizing, even before it's fully sunk in. She can't pretend it isn't a horrible thing to do, she's not even sure she can entirely understand it, but it's not like she didn't realize he was capable of hurting people. He's a fighter, a cop, and she's seen him lash out under better circumstances than that. Maybe that should worry her more, but she can't believe he would ever hurt her and one action doesn't make a life.

"Okay," she says slowly. Now isn't the time to argue, not if she wants to hear it all, and now that he's started, she intends to see this through. "Is there something else? Because that still doesn't change us."