He listened to her, one hand moving to gently cup her cheek. His thumb ran along her skin, touch light. "I'd never ask you to not leave your shop. I love that you have a place that's so - dunno, this place is you. It's smarter than it should be for how old it is, it's refuge for so many people, it's cozy and comfortable but exciting because there's always something different. I'm just me, I can't ask you to change that or forsake it. I'm just asking to share you sometimes, as far as space goes. And that's exactly what I'm asking. You're ... dunno, you're a butterfly. Does that make sense? I'd rather watch you float than pin you." He blushed at his own words. Sometimes he was too expressive, and wished he could stop the flow of babble.