[ He's sure plenty of mother's here would love to hear this, to hear that their children are lost in a world that's darker than they can possibly imagine. His own mother would be horrified, she'd be horrified to even hear what he's been through--what she sent him to--but at the same time he knows that she believes in him.

She believes in his gift. In what he can do. That alone is enough to keep him pushing on, even without the changes he sees in Arthur by his aid.

He doesn't pay that much attention to that woman when she brings the drinks over, but he does give her a slight mumble of thanks as he tries to stay focused on the friend that needs him right now.

His hand drops uselessly when she turns her face away. Her words, too, cut a little deeper than she probably expects. ]

I don't know. I'm not proud of a lot of the things I've done, though some... [ Like the witchfinder... setting him up to fall is something he can be proud of when he was a liar that bargained people's lives for cash ] I can't say I could care less about. Being your friend... is something I care about though.

Don't you?

[ He reaches out as he ends his words there, fingers gently brushing back her hair until it can tuck it behind her ear. ]