It's like you didn't expect him to be a gigantic sap or something.
The book reads:
Oh, Shrike. My knight in shining armor. Sometimes I don’t know who I’m more envious of: her, or Nero, when I see the way they look at each other. For all her strengths, her compassion and kindness, I have seen the way she barely holds herself together with jagged, broken pieces, and I wish I could be the glue that pieces them back into one. I worry sometimes that I am not what she needs. But I am, after all, a greedy man. And as long as she will hold me in her arms I cannot bring myself to push her away. I’ll take everything she gives me and hoard it like precious gold, vain thing that I am. I’ll fumble through poems for her. I’ll even write my own clumsy verses, just so I can tell her what she means to me and have it mean something. And when her pieces fall again, I’ll hold her and cry with her. I long to see what she looks like walking down that aisle, robed all in white and satin. It is not that I wish to be the one she walks towards, or that I wish I could be her husband. I can only imagine how happy it will make her, and I want to be there to see her flourish, in all her radiant beauty. I want to watch it closely, and cherish the memory for the rest of my days. Like I said: I am, after all, a greedy man.
Re: DOOR THREE - THE BEDROOM
The book reads:
Oh, Shrike. My knight in shining armor. Sometimes I don’t know who I’m more envious of: her, or Nero, when I see the way they look at each other. For all her strengths, her compassion and kindness, I have seen the way she barely holds herself together with jagged, broken pieces, and I wish I could be the glue that pieces them back into one. I worry sometimes that I am not what she needs. But I am, after all, a greedy man. And as long as she will hold me in her arms I cannot bring myself to push her away. I’ll take everything she gives me and hoard it like precious gold, vain thing that I am. I’ll fumble through poems for her. I’ll even write my own clumsy verses, just so I can tell her what she means to me and have it mean something. And when her pieces fall again, I’ll hold her and cry with her. I long to see what she looks like walking down that aisle, robed all in white and satin. It is not that I wish to be the one she walks towards, or that I wish I could be her husband. I can only imagine how happy it will make her, and I want to be there to see her flourish, in all her radiant beauty. I want to watch it closely, and cherish the memory for the rest of my days. Like I said: I am, after all, a greedy man.