Though I may have once protested that I neither wanted Rowena's company nor did I need it, in that moment, I was more than sure it was exactly what I needed. Any other individual would have treated me like a bomb with a short fuse, hidden in the dark so the time of detonation was not available. Any other individual would be worried that the eggshells they walked upon were going to crack at any moment and send them reeling from the wrath of my reaction. With a healthy survival instinct in tact, many would have left me to my own devices but the witch who radiated absolute authority and dominance even in a domain far from her own... she walked without hesitation into my quite literal cave of darkness. Without hesitation did she reach across the table and pull the cigarette from my yielding lips. I could only watch in silence as the smoke slithers from lips that my eyes lingered for just the briefest of seconds too long; the frazzled, frayed bits of my being regrettably unwinding further as her gaze takes in the fractured image of a man unsure of whether he wants to return to the surface or not.

I was never really a decisive man.

That, in all actuality, was a lie. I knew in my heart that I often made choices without even deciding, knowing the answer somewhere inantely inside myself. As for now? Saying goodbye to the essence that had been protected in my heart, my head, my memories... Finally allowing peace to come to Serena and the baby was like spinning around and laying down on your back while you're dizzy, looking upwards. The sky tilts, the directions blur. Nothing felt as it truly was, and therein lay the eternal dichotomy I felt in my impromptu decision to say goodbye to my, quite literal, ghosts. An emotional, mental dizziness that was going to make me sick in time, just as all of the memories did as they eventually caught up with me.

Instead of being allowed to wallow in the confusing thoughts I'd woven a web of, Rowena's lips turned into an upright curl, meaning that it was her attempt of a smile when instead, the expression would have been something the devil's mistress would wear. Unsurprised, I merely reached for the cigar I had put out early the night before. It was resting lazily on the ash tray near my chair, though the end began to glow as I held the flame to it, and smoke slowly emanated from my lips. Her jest meant that she didn't truly care about the personal weakness I was talking about, and then again... Unwittingly I had been the sole perpetrator and victim of that personal weakness. Involving Isolt was only necessary when the drugs were too strong for me to remove on my own, but she wasn't a casualty. That kind of thing was normal for doctors to witness, right? Rowena, on the other hand, needed absolutely no more fuel to light a fire of petulance beneath me to watch my squirm with discomfort. She needed no more fuel to build kindling for humiliation at the hands of her loquacious wit.

"While I find your willingness to portray the sensitive woman thoughtful," I began, my voice filled with a haze directly from the cigar smoke. "Pleasant and kind aren't becoming of you," I finished slowly, allowing my eyes to cloud with darkness to make up for the lack of humor she would find there. I should have kept my mouth closed. Without visible display of that thought, y'know, the one where I admit I shouldn't have said something, I licked my lips before taking another drag of the cigar to effectively plug my mouth.

I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours?

My eyebrows knit together in direct response to her statement, fortunately cloaked in the darkness of the room. She didn't need a response to that, no, especially as her own expression melts away to reveal an unamused mask beneath the impish glimmer. Naturally she would want nothing to do with whatever stories I had been harboring, whatever problems I was having... My own expression began voiding itself of any kind of visible emotion as I nodded, letting her know I had heard her. Still basking in silence as if I didn't know what I had asked Rowena's presence for, I gently tapped my cigar on the side of the ashtray before returning the entirety of my attention to her.

"Don't be rude," I started to say, finding an unfortunate bit of humor in her choice of words, rendering whatever problem I may have been having pathetic. "I asked you here because the Hunters are gathering information on more of us. Surely you didn't miss that, considering the Witchery was a target. We were all lucky to be nearby, that day. But now?" I shook my head, finding a bit of thoughtfulness tickling my tone. "We, as witches, operate in solitude. Think of the things we might be able to accomplish if we worked together... I, as a rule, don't like participating in 'group projects'. After seeing the stupidity of some of the hunters and their blood lust growing, I think a group project might just be necessary."