[There's a brief pause in his movements, then, before he continues to follow her. She knows him too well, evidently.]

Pasha, you can't expect me to just stand back and do nothing when there's the risk he might do something to you. I may not be good for very many things, but that much is something I can do.

[He says it, but there's the trace of something vaguely chastened in his voice regardless-- playing him at his own game, that's a dirty trick. But it's one that carries some weight to it. He doesn't want to be the reason she feels any kind of hurt.

His own pace is a lot less light, less joyful, as he follows along with his hand held in hers because if he can't throw himself blindly into dramatic self-sacrifices, then what can he do to help her?]

And oh, I'm sure you've done a wonderful job. Your cottage back in Vesuvia was very inviting.

[And there's a pang in him, then. The thought that she is better off without having someone like him around her. A disaster waiting to happen.]