He knew she would angry and that the word would fly, and that was fine. She had the right to be angry, ever right. But when she stopped and said "I'm sorry, by the way. For asking. I know it wasn't my place." Ambrose could also feel the hatred behind that remark like a physical blow to his stomach. He waited until she was gone and the door upstairs slammed, and then he dropped, heavy in to a chair. He was doing this for he own good. He knew that. Then why did it feel like he was creatures she hated to most? He put his head in his hands and took a moment to himself.