Oh. That's a familiar sting, another thing he'd forgotten in his absence; exactly how deep her constant rejections cut him. It's worse now, though -- before, he'd been accustomed to it, grown emotional calluses where her denials chafed at his heart, resigned himself to the way things were between them. Now he has no defense against it -- even aware of the emotional storm beneath it, her nonchalant brushoff hurts him. He tenses, grits his teeth.

He moves without thinking, when she walks away from him, tugged forward by the ever-increasing ache in his chest, radiating outwards, corroding away his other organs like acid; he's left raw and hollow but for the traitorous vascular pump intent on battering its way past the bars of his ribcage. He follows her across the room.

"Don't," he hisses, stepping almost close, he hovers just outside a reasonable personal bubble. It's as close as he can manage, really. Despite wanting to embrace her, it's been so long since anyone touched him -- since he was close to anyone -- without excruciating pain to follow. "Don't you impossible me. I'll tell you what brought me here. The fact that I just broke out of a high security government prison less than two weeks ago is what brought me here. I'm here for the same reason I ever come here. Because you're here."