[The conversation does not quite flow naturally. They are as halves of a broken vessel trying to fit together edges that once made a whole, but now too many pieces have chipped off, scattered and lost, and the eroded edges no longer match.]

I forget how stubborn you are. [Just as he forgets so many little fragments of her, that which once captivated him slipping away. What had they been, these treasures that once were so precious to him? Time marches indifferently forward, heedless of what has been left behind.] Yet you are no longer mine to tend to...this I know well.

[He does not doubt that she has others worrying for her, urging her to keep safe, controlling the damage she pulls down upon herself. She is so easy to love, after all.]

Let me offer what aid I can, to you who have aided me so in days gone by. Quickly now - you must trust me, reluctant though such trust may be to bud anew where I have so carelessly trampled it.

[He reaches for her now but his hand pauses in the air that thickens between them, as if this is a dance whose steps he cannot quite recall. His eyes hold steady against her, his gaze as strong as she will remember, but in it wavers a question.]

--For my craft to manifest, I must lay my hand upon you. Will you trust me, Olivia?