@HisBraveKitten There was a difference. There was Darcy...and then there was everyone else. Darcy wouldn't even be close to the same category as this woman, not to mention Darcy wasn't a hooker. Something in his 1940's mentality...even as buried as it was, was disgusted by women who would sell themselves in such a way. "She attacked me..one moment of distraction could have hurt me far worse, love. I'm never going to let it be them over me, I always choose me." He started to take off his boots, the ones he used as a soldier. He sighed. "You should never have to know about any of the targets...that's my fault.." He frowned, pursing his lips together. He could feel her energy, he was feeling judged, he felt his chest tighten up. "This is why it's a bad idea to have a relationship in this field..and everyone knows I damn well wasn't supposed to." He laughed mirthlessly, putting his face in his hands for a moment, self loathing creeping in. He usually loved his job, why did he feel so badly now. And the dead driver.../that/ was worrisome too. He stalked off to the mini bar, getting out the bottles of vodka, downing one after the other as he returned to the bathroom. "I never hid anything from you..I can't, so please really think about this.....make very certain..." He tensed up, he was shaking. He felt a threat of tears from frustration with himself. "I fucking hate myself....you'll just get hurt.." She looked away, trembling now, tears filling his eyes. "I don't want you to have to pretend to be okay...just because of me....loving me will ruin you..." He felt such disgust with himself, he couldn't look at her.