Lucius knew she was right - it shouldn't have been an issue, and he doubted it would shock her. Disappoint, perhaps. And even if she felt he'd been taken from her, he was quite certain she was the last person standing who didn't hold him in contempt, and he was in no hurry to let her know he was still lowering himself to these sorts of ... chores. He pushed himself stiffly out of his chair and gave her a pleading sort of look before crossing to the wardrobe. He was tired.
But he did owe her something. The way she lived now ... Well. He already had plenty to be ashamed of. What was one more thing? "I've killed a man," he sad wearily, pulling out his robe. "A few, actually. A couple women. No one important. The sort of thing any bloody-minded half-wit could be set to doing." He would not be telling her he was doing it because he wanted to. "I truly didn't think you'd be interested." He kicked his clothes out to the middle of the floor, tugged his robe on. He didn't know whether he was more angry with himself for succumbing to it, or with her for pressing so.