He felt like crying, but neither his British upbringing, nor his male pride would allow it; and so he stood frozen as he watched his slayer crack.
"I quit, I resign, i..i'm fired, you can find someone else to stop the master from taking over!"
Those words had sounded like nonsense to his mind, so he'd answered to convince her otherwise; because no matter how much he'd cared for her she was still a tool in his poisoned mind. "I'm not sure anyone else can. All the signs…"
She'd snapped and thrown the first thing she could find in the general direction of his head. "Read me the signs! Tell me my fortune! You're so useful sitting here with all of your books. You're really a lot of help."
And finally it clicked. She was a child with the weight of the world on her shoulders, not a weapon that the watcher council had every right to use. He'd always been taught that the Watcher's were the heroes and the slayers were just their pawns. Wrong again.
Up until this moment he hadn't understood why she was angered at the mere mention of the council.
It made perfect sense now.