She let the meaning of those words process. Her mind was a dark tangle, a jumble of confused images. Geneva's experiences with intimacy had been wondrous. She had been safely guided into the secrets of the flesh by someone she had loved, who had loved her dearly. She found it hard to imagine that an experience that could be so beautiful could be twisted into something darker, something shattering. But she knew that it was easy to transform vulnerability, to corrupt it and twist it. She cast her eyes to her reflection as she dwelled on those thoughts.
She looked back up at him, noting the rigidity of his stance, the coldness in his tone and gaze. Geneva was all soft - the sound of her voice a whisper, her footsteps small, fluttering paths. But she would try to match the strength of his self-hatred, the core of his darkness, with strength of her own. "And you regret it." She spoke with surety, with complete faith infusing her words. She had seen beneath this cold exterior, and she refused to believe there was all that was left of him. There was a part of him that lived on this regret, the part that was eating him alive. Her words didn't refute his statement. She met his eye, acknowledging that he had committed an atrocity. "I can believe the worse of you...but that won't stop me from believing in the best of you, either."