[She could read him just as easily as she once had, seeing his fisted hands and knowing that it was a sign that he yearned to reach out and touch. Better that he kept them to himself though, as she would have to strike out if he touched her. The frown was a surprise though, that flash of deep hurt that should have been dulled by time.]
I am not your wife. And I have heard news of the family she has given you. Just because my husband hates your name does not mean we do not hear of what happens here. How else would I know to come? [The words were insistent, for all that they came out quieter in reaction to the hurt behind his eyes. She heard her own voice and the care in it and straightened her spine with another frown, this one for herself.] Stop playing this game. You know what has happened. I shall return home if you continue to think it amusing to have me recite history.