"... why?" Steph leans against him a little, their hands and twenty-five-million layers of parka between them, catching his eyes and trying to hold them, her own clear and calm, not hurt or angry or defiant, just - existing. Wanting to be what he needs, because that's what she wants.

"... actually, you don't even have to answer that, it doesn't matter." He's sorry for something, perceived or real, but ... it still doesn't matter.

"You're ... you're family. So forget it. I love you."