Bryn glanced at him, ready to argue that time had never been her friend. But something about his posture, that smile, told her not too. She put more trust in him than the other gods, most of her life. And while she was aware that he was the prince of lies, he had never failed her. "I trust you. But I will ask you this, if nothing can be done, if she does not want this," she held her hand just over her chest, hoping he would gather that 'this' was her vampirism, "do not let me give in to my mortal weakness, and turn her anyway. Because I want to now, and grief will only make that want stronger. I wanted to then, but could not."