i hear that it was you who died alone and i offer no sympathy for that
Elspeth notes the lack of a wedding band dispassionately -- at least outwardly; her eyes linger on her first husband's hands around his mug longer than is really necessary, he feels. "So she did leave you."
"She died," he says, curtly. "What do you want, Peth?"
"I need you to do something for me."
"Can't. Sorry. If that was all, my dear?"
"...Ethan, please. Just hear me out."
"Why me?"
"You can...do things. That other people can't."
"How beautifully euphemistic of you, sweetheart--yes, I can; no, I won't. Whatever it is, you can't afford it."
"You owe me, Ethan. You know you do."
"Funny how that doesn't mean I give a damn, isn't it?"
Ethan will never know precisely what Elspeth would have asked of him, but a week or two later he can draw his own conclusions from the obituary.
"She died," he says, curtly. "What do you want, Peth?"
"I need you to do something for me."
"Can't. Sorry. If that was all, my dear?"
"...Ethan, please. Just hear me out."
"Why me?"
"You can...do things. That other people can't."
"How beautifully euphemistic of you, sweetheart--yes, I can; no, I won't. Whatever it is, you can't afford it."
"You owe me, Ethan. You know you do."
"Funny how that doesn't mean I give a damn, isn't it?"
Ethan will never know precisely what Elspeth would have asked of him, but a week or two later he can draw his own conclusions from the obituary.