Byron's eyes were haunted when they met hers, stark and for a moment naked with centuries of anguished searching. Then the mask fell again.

"I'm sorry to have taken your valuable time."

He bowed again, searching her eyes for something that wasn't there, then he turned and left. His limp was a touch more pronounced, a physical sign of the internal, and he hated it more than ever. The twisted body and soul...how could he have thought there was anything there to save hm?