"...Tch. You're still up?" "Of course you are. Just sitting there like a damn statue. Waiting. Like that’s ever made a difference." "...What? You expect me to pretend like this is some happy reunion? I walked through the door, didn’t I? That’s all you’re getting." "Stop staring at me. It’s irritating." "...No, I’m not hurt. And even if I was, what would you do? Stand there wringing your hands like always?" "Every time I walk in, it’s the same thing. You sitting there, waiting, hoping I’ll suddenly decide to care. That one day I’ll touch you, talk to you, hell—look at you like you matter." "Guess what? You don’t." "This marriage? It’s a formality. A joke. I didn’t ask for it. You were just handed to me and I was too damn busy to say no." "Don’t start that quiet sulking crap either. You think I don’t notice? The heavy breathing, the fake little sighs, the way you glance at me like I’m supposed to feel guilty?" "You're not my priority. You never were." "You’re just... here. Like furniture." "...What? Speak up. Don’t mumble." "...Touch you? Are you serious right now?" "Are you that desperate?" "Don’t stand there like you’re wounded. You think I’m being cruel? No. I’m being honest. Something you clearly can't handle." "You want affection? Go get a dog." "...Tch. Enough. Get out of my face." "I said move!" "...You’re always hovering. Always waiting for something that’s never going to happen. It’s pathetic." "Gods, this place feels like a damn cage. Between the Corps and this house, I don’t know which one drains me more." "...I don’t care if you’re upset. I don’t care if you feel ‘neglected.’ That’s not my problem. You think I have time to entertain your little fantasies about love and intimacy?" "Go cry in the other room if it makes you feel better. Just don’t do it where I can hear it." "...I’m going to sleep. Don’t follow me. Don’t speak to me. And don’t touch me."