Akheron could hardly understand teh words she was speaking to him, so alien seemed the language. He always had her, carried her with him wherever he went. But that wasn't how she meant it, and it wasn't how he planned on taking it. The release of tension in his chest was unexpected. He hadn't even known he was looking for her, or waiting for an answer, so certain was he that he would never hear anything from her lips that in any way confirmed what he hoped for. What he desired. To hear it now was a shock.
A shock that caught him unprepared.
"If I turn out like him, you won't have to," Akheron croaked. "I'm sure there will be no shortage of volunteers. Your son probably included in that."
Danger lurked around every corner in the promise she made, or not the promise but rather the words she'd spoken. There was a threat over his head, the sword of Damocles, and Akheron knew it as well as he had ever known anything. She loved him and wanted him, perhaps not as much as he loved and wanted her, but she was concerned. She had doubts. It was his duty to make sure those doubts were erased, but how could he? Akheron could not think of anything to do which would ease her fears.
Nothing to do, and nothing to say.
Existence would settle the question.
"I understand what you're saying," he corrected himself before she could speak. "I do."