[For a long time, it looks like he might grab one of the sharper gardening tools and ram it right up under Petre's ribs. He's that furious, murder etched across his features; anyone else would be a singed carcass by now, and damn the consequences. But that silence is spinning out between them, giving Petre more and more power the longer it lasts, and he can't find a counter argument. No I'm not won't be enough for him, even though it's true - he's got someone who could very easily love him and arm's length is not enough emotional distance for him by a mile. He's more scared of love than of being alone.

That's the thing. A denial will reveal another vulnerability. He set his own trap by admitting how little it took to draw him in, and now he's snared. Didn't he think to himself once that he'd eventually chew off his own foot? The time appears to have come, but he's not ready.]

Don't flatter yourself. There are so many people in the world I hate more than you. [That's the best he can do, after all that glaring. It makes him cringe inside.] And if you really think I gave you a chance because I was looking for love, you really don't know shit about me. Not a goddamn thing.