Send my muse "hey lil mama lemme whisper in ya ear" and I’ll use a number generator for what my muse will say to yours.

He feels  a twinge  of regret,  though such  feelings seem  to
just be the default for Balfour as of late. He regrets speaking,
he regrets not. It’s all terribly pathetic and, honestly, he’s just
a little ashamed.

                                   Which is why his words leave his lips in
                                   little more than a mumble. And he won’t
                                   look at her. Oh, no.

             "–Stay with me… please.“