The vulnerable tone to the question resonates with him, like his own feelings have been reflected back at him, which is something that seems to happen often with Sylvie. They're so alike in some ways, so different in others, but they get each other.

"No," he says with quiet conviction, shifting up onto his metal so he can look down at her, resting his good hand against the center of her chest, thumb sweeping back and forth as he smiles down at her, hair spilling over his forehead. "I really don't want you to leave. I want to get you breakfast."