They had both disappointed each other time and time again in Kirkwall, though correctly or not all Kit can see when he looks back over the course of their relationship are his own mistakes--missed opportunities to let Vandelin in, to share his burdens with a man who wanted nothing more than to be close to him. That closeness, that love, seemed like something that belonged to other people, and he'd been unable to accept it.

Is that what this is supposed to be? A chance to make that right?

"Chuck," he says, and after a beat makes a sound like a snort or a laugh, reaching up to scratch the side of his beard. "He lived down by Anders' clinic. Shitty hole-in-the-wall hovel, yea big--" he approximates with his hands, "--barely big enough for a passle of nugs to bed down in on a good day, even shittier when it rains. Vandelin, please," and he doesn't mean to beg, truly he doesn't, but he can see something in those green eyes he'd thought was gone forever. He takes another step forward, swallowing, and reaches out. "Please."