The fact that they're even talking about this at all, that he's let the conversation go on this long, is in and of itself a testament to what they once had, have, will always have (we used to tell each other everything). Even though he never wanted her to see, still, anyone else wouldn't have gotten this far while barging into his room. Number One is the leader and he's not supposed to show any weakness. Isn't supposed to bare his throat, reveal those vulnerabilities, show any possible crack in the foundation that might lead to building collapse. A loose pebble that turns to an avalanche.

But he's caving in on himself now, a hand scrubbing at his face. He looks to the side, breaking eye contact, unable to tolerate that searing stare from her.

"I've already said too much. Nevermind. Forget I said anything."

Like a hermit crab scuttling back into its shell.