( it shows. a little. maybe. julian tells himself that isn't what he's looking at, that he only wishes anyone would still feel the way about him that they did before he became a monster. and then he feels guilty for wanting that. guilty for the very notion of thinking he has any right to drag anyone down to his level. his eyes dart from her face to her hand, still held out. not insistently, but it may as well be. she wants him to put his hand in hers, and shouldn't he obey?

maybe, but it's better if he doesn't. it's the right thing to do not for her to have to feel how he's changed. still, miserable wretch that he is, he can't hold out forever. eventually, once he's stricken emotionally enough by the things that she says, he swallows and extends his clawed hand one more time. and this time he finally does lay it against her palm. the second they make contact he's crushed by guilt and regret, glancing up apologetically and then looking away again, hangdog, ashamed. )

Honor? Me? Oh, Morga, I don't deserve your honor. I don't deserve a second thought of yours or anyone's. I'm sorry... I only left you with more burdens.

( what hits him harder? the physical contact, or how he finally, finally says her name out loud? both. who knows. whichever, it makes his brow crease like he's weathering a painful blow, his voice low and rough. )

All I deserve is exactly what I got. But not you. Not any of you.