[Each time it's repeated, it feels like another nail in the coffin. He's dragged an inch closer to damnation, to tying himself irrevocably to the mortals he's come to know here. Even up until now, he's had his doubts, held out "hope" that whatever had come over him could be done away with.

But it can't. And he knows it now. Whatever creature he's made himself out to be, it's gone.]

If I could skin whoever told you that you had to be perfect for someone to be proud of you, I would. [It's... a bit of an awkward shuffle, to lean over and try to hold Riley, but at least he's getting used to the gesture.]

I wish you would give yourself a break. But that does not change how I feel. It doesn't take away the pride.