[Shit. Fuck. She hecked up. She can't even bring herself to look at him, her nails biting into her palms as she just takes several deep breathes. Well, he already knows she's crying, so she's just going to -- relax one of her hands and pull her glasses off, bringing her other hand up to fist at her eyes. She's a god damn embarrassment right now. Who even wants a hitman who gets herself killed every time and can't stop crying about it?

Could she really be so wrong? After everything he'd said on the island, after everything he'd said in this castle... perhaps she'd misread him. Perhaps he was angry at her presumption. But she still can't bring herself to look at him to make sure.]

The young master said... he didn't need a tool, [she manages finally after several breaths. If he was already angry at her being presumptuous, it was better to get it all out now, right? So he could tell her not to be an idiot, and she could go right back to knowing her proper place.] The young master who visited my grave and spoke to me on my birthday, even though he didn't know I could hear...

[She swallows hard and rubs at her eyes again, really trying not to let herself get overwhelmed.]

If I could stay with the young master... if I could be what the young master needed, I would... [it's definitely too presumptuous to say that it would make her happy, so she has to pause a beat and try to rephrase,] it would be my honor. To be that for him.

[And if what the young master needed was for her to be herself, and not be a tool... it's roundabout, but that's what she's asking for. If he can get through the veil of polite speech to see it.]