He knows she will. He considers leaving. Packing up a few small things and relocating elsewhere. A chat with Gregson before she can get to him after she gets to his contacts in England and hopefully work something out. If not, then. Well, he doesn't know. His options are limited. He looks up at her for a moment with something of an unreadable expression. Only in due that he doesn't know what he is thinking; he doesn't know what to do. All it took was once. Things were better when he was distant. Safer.

"Irene was something of a specialist of her own," he lets the cup slide to the table, eyes down on the brim that his fingers ring about now. Slowly they slide around the cup; around and around. "She worked with him, although I did not know at the time. She was a flawless actress."