Her hesitance melted away. She no longer felt as though she was dealing with a skittish animal. She was no longer afraid to drive him away. They had come to a point, finally, where they could be themselves, nothing more and nothing less. Geneva felt as though she could do nothing else, nothing less. These moments of truth, though there may be few so clear between them, were something precious, something not to be taken lightly.
There was sadness in the Patriarch's voice, perhaps even fear. But anger, defensiveness was absent from his words. She shook her head and just looked him, wondering why he would persist to believe the worst of himself. "I know who you are," she agreed quietly. And it seemed strange to acknowledge it. But it seemed, that since the moment she had met him, she had been reaching for this hidden part of him all along. "And that is why I could never see you as ugly." She said the last word resolutely, certain that it was the one that Jefferson couldn't make come out.