[He's breathing just a little easier on Hector's return, his hungry gasps less urgent and often; with the healing underway, the blood trapped around his lungs is slowly reabsorbing and the crushing pressure it placed on his organs, strangling his voice to a near-whisper, is easing off. But there's nothing a devil can do for the exhaustion that leaves him boneless in Hector's arms in a way he ordinarily never would be, and he'd be more frustrated if his steel trap of a mind weren't just as blunt and useless, dizziness rocking him every which way even when he's laid still. He fights powerful waves of nauseas while trembling by the fire, feeling his skittery pulse down to his fingertips, but not much else. Pain is only a memory on the edges of his awareness.]

I told you... it would never work. [There's no bite to his voice, no fire. He pulls his arms around himself, barely.] But you will always sooner believe in the innocence... of humans than you will in me.

[It's no surprise, and it stings more than it has any right to, for what he's done. 'Leave me', he'll repeat, before long.]