You're a stubborn little bird with pretty feathers, that's all. [He watches Ying as she drifts into a deep, happy slumber. There is a feeling of...being tethered. Belonging. In his chest. But he turns his back to it, not trusting it.]

Even they are not exactly like you. I would be able to pick you out.

[And carry her away from her prison.]

Precious, am I. [He looks at her as if she has grown another head!] And you say you're not worthy of me? Are you by chance a lover of wine?