He can see it, and part of him aches for her, wants to pull her close and say I'm sorry I'm like this, forgive me. But that isn't him; this version of himself doesn't apologize, not for things like this.

"Last time, I didn't resolve it the way I should have. I want to do better." But the implication is clear in his voice: he doesn't know how to. The cigarette is pinched between his fingers, now, almost forgotten in his concentration.