private: [CUNNINGLINGUIST]/[ASMODEUS]
Here's my explanation. I knew she couldn't handle Culloden and I told her so. She told me I wasn't able to tell her what she could and couldn't handle (but let's be clear that with regards to Culloden I know exactly who can handle it). She was starkers at me for being rude to Emma (fair, but I've paid her for it), then snapped about as how she had liked me. Said as how I couldn't dictate her life, which I wasn't trying to do in any case, but women shall be women and see what isn't there. Then I said as how she ought to trust me, this was big, and I didn't want to tell her here, I wanted to tell her in person. The scar explains better than the words. But then I told her, on account of her pushing and pushing. THEN she said as how I should see a head doctor, and I said no, it's only a problem in April and it's my problem any road and I'll bide, then she said a part of her loves me like she loves everyone else. So I told her congratulations, I'd never been friends-zoned before, then she said she needed time to process. I told her I couldn't see as to how I was to give her that.
So to be clear: I'm the one that relives losing my entire family and she's the one that needs to process, me being the big brute I am.
I thought I cared for her. I think I was wrong.
And the bloody cleaning woman's left half my windows up and most of my doors wide open. How'm I supposed to keep the house of tolerable climate when my staff can't even close the goddamn window?