Don't worry. We'd have had lots of mornings when you got to wake up in my arms.

[ Like Verso's fantasy with the opera house, the pertinent context here is that it isn't a one-time thing, an only chance. He'd already had that, and all it had done was make him yearn for more. His shoulders drop in a sigh as Verso brushes a kiss against his temple, and his arm tightens around him for a moment, unwilling to let go.

He has to. He knows he has to. It's been hours already, surely, and even Sciel will only give him so much time. ]

Then tomorrow I'll try to convince you again. But I can't stay tonight.

[ He presses a kiss to Verso's shoulder, his collarbone, then pulls gently away to lean on his left elbow, reaching with his right hand to tuck the dark wave of Verso's hair back over his ear, thumb soft against his temple. That same wistfulness is in his eyes, along with a quiet resignation. ]

I hate to leave you, mon cher. Even if it's to dream of you later.