He was right. Again. Were they still in their home, with their boys, before everything started to go wrong, Sigyn would have rolled her eyes and teased him about it. She would have said life presented no challenge when she lived with somebody that had all of the answers all of the time. He didn't, of course, he was just bright and clever. When he wasn't drinking or angry. So in a way, it was a relief to have him keep making logical points.
“I will come back,” she told him, her voice firm. “I will always come back.”
Her eyes moved to the bowl, and from there up to the snake. Usually, she avoided looking directly at the thing. It wasn't as though she thought it would go away if she didn't acknowledge it; the bowl she held was firm proof that wasn't true. The truth was, snakes made her skin crawl. She'd always hated them, and now she was stuck with one for eternity. One with a medical condition that made it actually drip venom. In her more bored moments, Sigyn wondered just where Skadhi had found the thing and if it was some sort of deformity in its fangs or its jaws that caused it to leak the way it did. But it was the greatest barrier in her leaving. Because she couldn't let her husband suffer more than he had to.
Looking at the bowl again, she tilted her head to the side to really look at it, then her gaze went to her husband's face. “Just out of curiosity, how long do you think you can hold perfectly still?”