"We can only go as long as our feet carry us," Rembrandt found himself saying somberly. He took Callista's face in his hands and leaned in, not quite close enough to kiss her, but a breath away all the same. "If we leave, we can't come back. Not for a while at least. You're the only person I'd ever consider calling a friend... If we go together, there can't be any lies between us. Can I trust you, Callista?"
His eyes were glossed over and his tone was imploring, as if this was the one and only moment he might open up to another soul in his life. Rembrandt had survived as long as he'd lived on his own, but now he had another life in his hands, and he supposed, much in the same way, his was in her.