"You're wrong." Softly corrected with a little smile. "York is nothing but a bundle of perceptions rooted in soldier principles." He smoothed his hand over her neck, down her shoulder, and over her bicep. "York is only a soldier. Just a code name. John's a man, a human. But I haven't been John in a very long time." The quiet correction trailed off there and he smoothed his hand back up her bicep, over her shoulder, to her chin-- and he tilted it up so he could chastely kiss her mouth, only briefly.
"But whoever and whatever I am, you're mine, and I'm not ever going to let anyone hurt you again. And look at me. I can keep that promise." Or he could die trying. That was something Spartans did well.