Bastien shrugs at the first part, with a half-smile that dimples his cheek particularly well. He is innocent and blameless, and so on and so forth, and saving is still saving.

"I want to talk about anything you want to talk about," he says, lifting her hand to examine her knuckles as if they need to pass inspection. "If you don't want to tell me what is bothering you, you can tell me what you had for breakfast. I'll be captivated."