Do you remember, when we met, and I told you about my father? How everything started falling apart because of what happened to me?

[Dean took her jacket; her interwoven tattoos and old burn scars are bare on her bloody arms. She traces a shiny pink ridge.]

He cared more about protecting me as a thing than he ever considered what I wanted, whether I was ever happy.

I know what you mean, and why. And that means the world. Thank you.