He didn't betray himself when he saw her move, his breath stilling in his throat as he watched her body shift, her face turn towards him, her hand reach out; when her eyes landed on him he let the breath go. Her voice fell as an anvil between them.

He moved, slowly, bending to pick up the glass which had landed with nothing more than a dull thud upon the rug by her bed. Setting it soundlessly on her bedside, he watched her, unblinking.

"You don't want me."

He spoke it as a statement of fact. Fact that he gleaned from nothing more than her lack of response to his letter, but a fact as far as he was concerned nonetheless.

"I was just leaving." He didn't move.