"Well, you're very pretty," he told her, and then chuckled a little. It wasn't an adjective he often used for her. Beautiful, yes. Gorgeous, stunning, sexy - but pretty seemed so sickly sweet and innocent. She was pretty, though.
"I love you, too," he told her, even though he didn't technically answer the question. There was no reason to doubt it; she'd put up with so many of his issues already, with strength and without judgement. But in that moment, he felt fragile. Maybe there was a limit on how much crazy she would tolerate. He could hardly blame her.
"It was a mistake, to bring you here," he told her after a quiet moment. "Sorry. I don't know what I was thinking."