[Bruno feels Polnareff shifting around and sitting up more than he sees it. He feels trapped. He should look at him. He owes Polnareff that much. But he also just wants to look the other way as much as humanly possible. It's the latter that Bruno resents himself for because he knows he's better than that. He knows he's better and he knows Polnareff deserves better. He shouldn't be so afraid of the consequences of the former either, but really, it's the existence of the latter that Bruno wishes he didn't feel.]

[He feels trapped between what he should do and what he wants to do. Or maybe what he needs to do. Everything seems so muddy and blurred together at this point.]

[Slowly, Bruno manages to lift his gaze back up to Polnareff, but he says nothing immediately. He allows a silence to fall, covered only by the sounds of the water against the side of the boat and the ocean breeze. And he wishes then, just for a little while, that he could tell the kinder lie that Polnareff has ultimately misread the entire situation. Hell, he'd be satisfied with any lie at this point. But he looks at Polnareff and he can feel the truth threaten to spill out in ways that he doesn't want it to, and he wishes they weren't so far apart and nowhere near each other at the same time.]

Pol— [No. He can't do that again. He shouldn't have in the first place. He corrects himself,] Jean.

Jean, I've liked the time we've spent together. I— [He has to correct himself again.] I like spending time with you. But I can only be your friend. I can't be anything more than that.

[There's a pause.]

I'm sorry.