"And this is how you would see that managed? By using our care for you as something to berate yourself with?"

He is very far away. Maybe that's why there is room again in her for some flash of anger to spark out from under the distress. Wysteria stamps one of her feet on the courtyard's paving stones, the calfskin boot's tread so soft thwap that it fails to startle even the chickens.

"Well I never agreed to it. And I doubt Mister Stark would be any more pleased to know it."