"Never?"
He takes a long, slow drag of his cigarette and stares at his partner, lids at half mast. She stands near the window, silently listening to the sound of blue rain requesting entrance against the its sill. "That's quite a promise."
Stein knows that her intentions are only the best, and she will fight with everything that she is to make sure it is fulfilled, but there is no guarantee that she can take it. Her promise carries a huge weight, but it could never find its way from the shadow of his own burdens. Ones that she will have to bear in remaining by his side.
She would never leave him is what she'd said. But what she meant was something entirely different. Because he wasn't looking for "never"s. "Never" was easy. Anyone could to "never."
Thin, white fingers clenched around a cup of lukewarm tea. She looked to him. He stared back at her. It was almost fitting.
"It's a promise I can keep," Marie said softly. "Never."
He inhaled bitter nicotine and didn't speak a word. It wasn't what he wanted to hear. She searched his face for answers she might and mightn't find.
"What is it, Stein? What should I say?"
She turned back to the window's sordid affair with a million rains and watched.
"Don't tell me that you'll never go."
It was too simple; too boring to claim.
Never was easy.
"So not never." Marie turned back. "How about always?"
Always was harder.
His mouth curved.
"There's an idea."
"Stein. I'll be with you always."
42_souls, table 3, theme #8) "the sound of someone promising they'll never go."