I woke up thinking of you, and then I lay in bed thinking of you, for a long time. That's what happens every other Thursday morning, when I don't have to get up for supervision.

I thought a lot about how you told me it 'wasn't too late' to get married and how massively you'd misinterpreted me. I don't want to get married. That wasn't what I was saying. I think you were thinking of yourself. I hate you for being married.

I would marry you, though. Of course. We could run away together. Maybe that's what you were actually saying? "It's not too late, Luc, I'll marry you?"