Ah, no. No, no, no, my dear, you're entirely mistaken. I am not the one with freedom to lose. I daresay I have hardly had any of that in my life to date, and I don't know if I may ever have any more of it than I do now, which is more than I once did. A free man? Not Nikolas! But you, my Winter . . . well. I suppose neither of us truly are, in professional senses, but you are moreso than you know, and that is precisely why I hate to shackle you to a weight like myself.

["Hate." No, he wants it. He wants it so badly that the undercurrent of it aches in his voice, and touches his eyes as he stares into Winter's. But all of the rest, he believes entirely.]