"And I answered them," he tells her, feeling even more vulnerable for the hope beating inside his chest again. It takes more self-control than he usually exercises not to fall back into anger again, because if she's saying that, it means she doesn't understand, and he'll need to spell it out.

Because it would be so easy to push her away, make sure she couldn't hurt him any more by doing it first, but he doesn't want to, not while there's still hope. He's always thought that hope was one of the most cruel of feelings.

"Five minutes ago, you said I was in love you," he answers her last question, and she might not think it's an answer again, but it's his, and he's not going to play her game of having two conversations at once, but really neither, so he's sticking to just one question at a time. "Now you think I might be done with you?"