[She must have her own reasons for offering up the name, he thinks, ones that don't fall under the realm of dignity. Melodramatic though it may have been, Rip had no intention of asking Peggy to name the man love couldn't quite conquer, not in time for her to have him, at any rate. Still, she does, and unprompted at that. It's a name with which Rip's familiar, in the end.]

I met him once. Seemed a decent fellow. [Certainly he'd been willing enough to give up precious food to monsters, all for the sake of a stranger. Decent indeed, but Rip doesn't mean to give him compliment beyond that. Not when Peggy tries to leash not her temper now, but her ache.

He knows that agony. Not in the exact terms, perhaps, but similar ones. For love to die, then hope to plant it's seed--only for the ground to be poisoned.

It's his turn then to drain the drink. His turn, then, to decide how far to open the wound.

His, along with hers.]

I am sorry, for whatever that's worth. [For what she's been through, shouldering the blame of seeing death where there had been something far different at play. For having that second chance come just that bit too late. He remembers asking Gideon to check on the reports of his family.

She'd hesitated. Over and over. At the end, she had been the one to say she was sorry.]

I'm also quite willing to fetch another bottle, since it looks like we'll be needing it.