You can tell me later,

[ is a promise, half-laughed.

The mirth lingers even as he grows more serious, ducking his head and pressing the remnants of his smile into Byerly's neck, just below his ear, so he's talking against his skin. ]

I'm sorry, mon cher. If I knew it was happening — if a spirit stood here and told me I could keep you or I could keep my pride — I would choose you. But I don't always see it so clearly.