Spoilers for Unsafe Haven (both parts). Thanks to BBC iPlayer & Toby.
toxic.
Come to me, Jim Beam. Come to mama. You can hear the half-empty bottle on the coffee table calling before you've even left the hospital. He scoffs and you snarl at Luc and blame your not-a-real-relationship for the hospital falling down around your ears. You hate it and you hate him, but you don't really hate him at all. You couldn't hate him if you tried. I can't do this anymore.
He follows you and you walk quicker, but his legs are longer and he covers more ground; he keeps your pace. It's toxic. You won't cry in front of him. You'll lie through your teeth but you'll never cry. What angers you more: that he saw you in his bed the morning after and fled, or that he believed you when you said it meant nothing? Of course you wouldn't profess your undying love for him. Not in front of him - or anyone but Jim Beam, really, and maybe a bottle of Coke just to wash it down.
Don't do this, he says, just stop, he holds you back and blocks your path; for a split second you think he might push you away (again).
And then he kisses you.