Hemingway had just slumped onto the sofa and stared blankly at the wall, completely worn out, none of his usual energy left in him. He glanced up as she came in with the tea and tried to force himself to give her a smile, almost desperate to reassure her that he was okay despite all the evidence to the contrary.
Smiling gave way to a confused frown as she got down in front of him like she was about to propose. He leaned forward a little to look at her curiously. Whatever he'd expected her to promise, it wasn't that. It took him a good few seconds to even get the words together to be able to respond.
"Knightly, what- what do you mean, let me down?" he asked her, utterly baffled by what she thought she had done. "You haven't let me down. Why would you think that?"