We wouldn't hate you. That's the problem; we'd hurt, we'd hate the situation, but we could never hate you, Christine. No more than we could hate Red, or Sigyn. Or even Richard, if he'd managed to do what he was trying to.

[He touches her chin with his other hand, trying to steer her to look at him. The bits of tears in his own eyes.]

You're going to make more marks than you can even think about. You just have to give yourself the chance.