"If so, not for some time." He hoped she would not hear him pacing late into the night; it was a habit of his.
When she'd come to the end of the row of stitches, he reached over and took up her hand, not stopping to consider the repercussions (how wonderfully freeing, not to care!). He bowed low over it before freeing it, trying to muster a smile. "A good evening, Saint Marguerite of my cloister." After that, he was gone, not even waiting for her reaction. If it was negative, she'd let him know.