It is perhaps proof of Tony's naivete that he still thinks the world can fall neatly into categories of good and bad, black and white. Gene has spent enough time alive both on Konryu and on Earth to know that's not the case and never has been.

"I meant to tell you, in the Dreaming," he says, trying to keep his tone as measured as it had been, though the hoarseness is beginning to creep back into his voice. "I didn't. I was selfish." I was hurting, hurting too much, worried that if I mentioned it you'd revoke your absolution and leave me alone with the photograph and the sword again.

He hasn't asked for Tony's forgiveness - nor would he dare.

Restless nerves are burning down his bones, and he stands, the chair scraping against the floor sounding eerily loud in the utter silence. He picks up the bag he's packed, and leaves the rings on the table. It's like ripping a part of his soul out, to turn his back on what he'd fought for all his life, but he knows it must be done. He doesn't know what he'll do without them, but he survived Zhang with no rings, only his wits. He has to believe he can survive Keeliai that way, too.

"I will leave, if you want me to," he says again, quietly.