[ Her laugh is a soft puff of air against his skin and the press of fingertips into his back. Her tone is a little dry, but all fond. ]

I know, I don't need you to love it the way you love me. Or your ship. I just mean--

[ Here she pauses again, struggling--as she always has, every time they've tried to talk their way around or through this obstacle--to get the precise shape of her thoughts clear and sharp enough to fit into words. ]

A few weeks after we were married, we walked up the coast so you could show me that bay where the dolphins come, do you remember? And on the way back, we came across that man whose wagon had gotten stuck in the mud on the way to market. It was late, and we were tired, but you offered to help push it out almost before he'd asked. And a few years ago when that terrible lightning storm set those houses on fire south of the village, you ran down as soon as we saw. You helped make sure everyone was safe, and you carried water, you even carried those goats out of the barn, remember they bit you? You didn't do those things just to please me. That's who you are.