"Themis—" the vehemence caught him unprepared. "I really don't think you can." So far she had respectfully stayed away from reiterating her offer for help and he appreciated that. He appreciated it, because he knew what he was doing would not meet her approval. All the secrecy and separation, sure it was to protect her — he did believe that. But it had a dual purpose, in that it prevented her from discovering the truth about him.
It was, he had noticed, very hard for him to keep things hidden around her.
"You don't want to be involved with this; I don't want you involved. You would—"
He cut himself off. What did he even mean to say? That she would not like it? She would despise what he had done regarding his family and if she found out anything about the trouble with Don Juan and his history with that substance — well, that was a deeply uncomfortable thought. A veritable can of worms. He had outdone himself, once again.

"What I mean when I say I catch myself bargaining with myself is, that I try to make up justifications for seeing you and being with you, when I know it is unwise, right now," he said. Their hands were still entwined, but in his body held a different sort of tension now. I should leave, he thought. If she pushed him harder, there was a point where he might fold, he knew that. It was not worth the risk.

---