[That's the part that breaks her, ultimately. Please. I'll give you anything. Because — because those aren't words of obedience; they're words of intent. I will give. It's an if-then statement, an offer and acceptance, a promise waiting to be forged. He'll give her anything, in exchange for this, by his own design, by his own will.

It makes her want to cry, if she had any tears left; she's not sure if she does, after all the crying she's done already. That last plea didn't fall under the umbrella of her order to explain himself. He added that in all on his own.]

I think I told you once that...that I felt as though I had ceased to be a Speaker, when my family went west and I came back here. I felt as though I had abandoned everything I knew. And you asked me if I thought there was no story to be had here. You thought I could still be one, even if...

[The thought dies on her lips. They tremble instead, and she makes herself look him in the eyes.]

You knew better, then. You knew when I didn't. So — if I do this, am I...can I be a Speaker, even still?