Then. Then! You will have to come and take it now, won't you, my dear! My—dear, dearest Winter. My very dearest, you can't know how—no, as I said, it is up to you to seize what you want with your own hands.

[He can hardly hear his own words anymore; they spill out in a mess onto the floor over the pounding of Nikolas's own heart in his ears. He can't be the one to assume that what Winter wants is all or any of that. His shoulders shake with the desire to lean in and take, but despite however things may look right now, he cannot allow himself to think he deserves to make a move on someone he's wronged so deeply . . . !

But here he is, not paying terribly close attention to how very hopeful his own face looks.]