Morose was not what he was afraid of. There was no way that Melody actually didn't understand what he was getting at. She was being purposefully difficult, he decided. This entire conversation was part of the punishment she was inflicting on him... punishment for the conversation at the ball, which — granted, that had been the wrong time and place to have that conversation, and it hadn't been anything she'd wanted to hear, but he also didn't really feel as though he'd done anything wrong. He had just been telling her how he felt, honestly, and for her to react like this was... well, it was unfair, frankly. Hurt, disappointed, sad, depressed he could understand, but she shouldn't be angry at him for not having fallen in love with the idea of being married. He'd held up his end of the bargain in their elopement ordeal; he'd put on a good show for everyone, he'd taken care of her as best as he was able, and he'd done what he could to make her happy. He'd never been cut out for this, nor had he ever implied otherwise. He was doing his best, which she'd said on the night of the party would be enough — but evidentially she'd changed her mind in the days that followed, and this was what he had to deal with.

"If you're going to ruin my holiday," he shot back, too frustrated now to bother watching what he said. "With the glaring and the sulking and the passive-aggressive bullshit. I don't deserve this. I was just telling you how I felt because I thought — I mean, I do that all the time for you. Cater to your feelings and try to make you feel better. And the one time I try to share something with you and just be honest for a second — well, I've learned my lesson now," he said hotly. "I won't be doing that again."