[Molly's blood boils for a hot moment, but he's very good at reserving his temper for pettiness and not outbursts. Seeing another tendril working its way out of her shoulder, he reaches over and yanks again.] I didn't have the fucking gold to get him out, for one thing. I planned on making my way and coming back for him, which is what people do for each other when they give a shit.

[He tosses the tendril away. Beau doesn't have to elaborate. He knows what she's trying to say- it isn't a feeling he can truly commiserate with, but having been around assholes, he knows that the people who are lured to carnivals are the people who have alienated themselves everywhere else.] You find people who do care about you and that you care about and you take care of each other, warts and all. You're not the worst thing ever, but you're close, and I still like you.

[He deserves his entire left side shriveling up and wilting at that admission. He gets a few petals falling to the ground, instead. Picky plant diseases.]