I do know. I am a liar, you must remember; I've told lie enough to know what they sound like. It is, indeed, a particular talent of mine to make even the truth sound like a falsehood. And yet you trust me, Winter, don't you? My dearest little fool.

[That little smile is just terrible. It's terrible in how much it makes Nikolas want to kiss it; his gaze lingers on it even as he talks, his own lips curling into a dopey, wanting little grin.]