The laws of men, so fickle and ever-changing. And as flawed as the men that make them.

[ A small smile plays at her lips as she begins to uncork the bottle of wine, catching the cork stopper in the palm of her hand. ]

On the contrary, I am always happy to hear that someone loves me. Though— [ He’s right though. She wouldn’t be happy. Why, though? After a moment of thinking, she knows her answer to that question, though she cannot fathom his own response. ] The appeal does wane if he loves everyone simply because they’re his creation. That is hardly a very unique trait.