I am sorry, [ he says, helpless, absent his memory and through it, any way to atone. he and calenmiril had fought, but rather crucially, he had not then immediately effectively died. he has enough awareness to keep listening to her, even as his head drifts further into his hands. he nods along. he has to take a few minutes to collect himself, to lift his head back up and put himself into a now more rigidly-held seat in the chair. his legs are uncrossed. ]

No matter what I might have said, or done, even in anger, I would not have purposefully left you a widow. [ she probably knows about calenmiril, he realizes. she probably knows all of his secrets, his quiet thoughts, his hopes, his wounds. and he knows nothing of hers, but wears the face of someone who did. ]

Please excuse me, Captain Baudin, [ he realizes he doesn’t know her first name, but the formality is a nice little shield, and he stands, ready to leave. ] I think I would like to go be alone for a little while.