Stutely dropped his gaze. They were down to the meat of it and all of his reluctance came bubbling back to the surface.
So maybe she was more than some holier-than-thou hypocrite. He'd sort of known that, if he were honest; the saints wouldn't be such pals with her otherwise. But she was still a god, an outsider to their story, and— fuck, he really didn't want to have to say the words again, why did he have to say it?
The shame burned in his face and he kept his eyes trained on his hands. "My head's broken," he mumbled.