Lenoer sighs, feeling hurt and exhausted by all of this. She runs her hands over her skirt, feeling the stitches of her broken heart tearing open again. "You're terrible at apologies, you know. The letter was a decent start. It made me willing to talk, and to listen. But these apologies now are only about your own hurt feelings. I'm hurt because it seems like you didn't think about my feelings for a month. I'm hurt because even though you started this by saying that you wronged me, you will not allow me any hurt or anger. As I vent my hurt and frustration, you lash back at me to deepen my wounds, to accuse me of not caring you enough because I'm hurt and angry and not instantly forgiving all."

Rising to her feet, Lenore clasps her hands primly in front of herself, not looking at him. "I was worried for you. I felt sick with guilt for having not better protected you from what happened during Tumenalia, never mind that I could not protect myself. It had you under an influence that ... was quite strong. And stung me quite sorely at one point, but I forgave you for my hurt because it was not your fault."

Lenore draws back her veil so he can see her bare face, cold as ice but with a deep, lonely ache in her eyes. "I am hurt because I spent a month remembering how I had told you clearly that I tend to fear the worst when left alone without contact. And that you at no point in the month thought of that. Or thought it important. That's what I cannot understand or forgive. That for an entire month, the thought of my feelings was never worth a minute above your self-pity. That's all. I thought of you. Wept for you. Worried over you. Would have done anything to reach you, comfort you. But it seems to me that in that month, you never once thought of comforting me. That's what I would like explained, Adrian. That's what I came here tonight to hear."