"You are speaking in riddles." She chided. But he seemed past hearing her now, not when she watched his eyes sink leagues away from her. It was frightening how far away a human could disappear into themselves, physically present and still worlds away. Themis was no closer to understanding the source of Samuel's dark doubts. What could have him so tightly in its clutches that he seemed like a man half-possessed before fading away into a shell of emptiness? This was not a fight she understood, not a fight that seemed fair. She was watching the man holding her heart drown, and he'd decreed she would stay on land and watch. It was an unconscionable act.

Relinquishing her wrist felt like resignation, and something very near to dread slithered up her spine. This was not an improvement; this felt like rejection. "If keeping me away was conducive to your health, you would not look so hollow." It was her turn to demand his focus; her freed hand reached for his, lifting their joined hands to her chest and pressing it over her heart. "Look at me, Sam. This," she pressed his hand hard over her heart, "Will not let me stand aside and watch you self-destruct. Whatever this quest is, abandon it or continue; it is your decision, but do not assume you act in a vacuum. Keep your secrets, but share your burden, and I will help you. Do not abandon me now. Not when I can support you." Her conviction steadied her voice and stoked her resolve. She imagined many things when she pictured Samuel's secrets, all of them some version of sordid, but her mind had yet to conjure a scenario where she responded with hysterics or sent him away. Removing him from her presence was about as pleasant as removing a limb. As gently as she could, doing her best to rein in her own energy, she reaffirmed her core promise to him. "I am not a coward, Samuel. I am not running away. Please don't ask me to."

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   Samuel Griffith