Oh, for—

[She cuts herself off, doing what she can to mediate the feelings he drags out of her. Things she's spent the last months doing everything she could to keep from spilling over. Briefly, she'll squeeze his hand, then she pushes the bottle of vodka back into it and gently tries to extricate herself.]

Quit acting like I'm some kind of a saint, Clint. We both know it's not true. I'm not some kind of... moral compass. I'm the same person as before.