[It sounds like there's a lot of bitterness there that Aoko is not sure she should touch . . . even though she feels it grate over her skin like a rasp. Again she is silent.]

'M sorry.

For what it's worth . . . it sounds like you did something really good.

Even if it cost a lot.

[And because she almost feels as though she owes him now . . . tentatively she tugs up a sleeve, revealing one, then two of the dark feathers rooted into her skin.]

'S why I was asking. If I asked too much . . . 'm sorry.