You did not invite me for sympathy. ( There's an equivalence here, his brazen nonchalance for her empty indifference. As if they race to see whose voice can deduct the last of its interest, the faintest shrapnel of desire. ) You wanted something. I am paying you even now. You go where few are allowed.

( And another nod, shallow, her attention once more captured by the pheasants: ) Leave the birds to air, once you've emptied their bellies. Not beside where the blood has spilled, animals will gather.