Millicent burst out laughing. By the time she recovered he was talking about his wife. Again.
"Yeah," she said. "That's what I'm saying. You might not love Isolde, but you still care about her. And people could use that against you, if they really wanted to. Love is love is love. Feelings is feelings is feelings. They're still there. You mightn't think they are or want to admit it or whatever, but they are. Bottling them up just makes them stronger."
She paused.
"Fuck, I sound like my mother. Sorry about that."
More whisky. Bottle was getting empty. No good. She didn't have money for a second.
"Are you telling me I can't throw a punch? Because I'm bloody good at that. Wouldn't want to dent your pretty face, though."