Broken Boulder she's got silver bullets on her tongue

He hadn't asked, but suddenly she was explaining her own mistake, and in a way he understood. No— more than one way. He hated that he could relate to her, even if it could not be applied to the situation with Aditya (perhaps the reason it struck so hard, he thought). No, it was reflected in the other lovers he had taken as of late; Samothes, Outlander, the nameless male.
For several beats he was quiet. It was— different with Aditya, but I've done the same. No— I do the same, frequently— it's funny, neither of you know he was... what, number three that week? Of four. He huffed out another bitter laugh.
It never helps, honestly, It could have been condescending, but his tone suggested otherwise; there was a deep melancholy to it. And the next words lacked judgment, though he felt it stir somewhere in his chest anyway. I've never cheated on anyone— but I've ruined things, I've hurt others. It's not worth it— even when there's nothing else left to lose, it doesn't help.
He shrugged, then. But I haven't stopped, and I doubt I will; if I were you, I'd tell me to shove it. And there it was— his real advice to her. He glanced up at her expectantly, expression a little wry. Well, go on then, tell me to shove it.