Hoshor Plains [m] the tortured poets department

It was an understatement to say that Argent's situation was complicated. Not only that, but it was delicate; his mother had died, and she could sympathize with that. So, without thinking, she reached for his paw and squeezed it. I'm sorry for your loss—I lost my dad not too long ago, and I know it can be difficult regardless of your relationship with them. Her paw lingered as she considered her next words and took a deep breath before continuing.

Argent—you are not a bad man for wanting to be somebody's first and only choice. You have no reason to be a 'better man' in that sense, she began, shaking her head. But it does seem like you're in a situation that doesn't suit your needs—you need somebody who would pick you and only you ... I would pick you she wanted to say, but the words went unspoken. That's just who you are and those are your preferences, and that's okay.