He sees right through her. He knows that if she truly couldn't care less about Bobby's infidelity her eyes wouldn't shatter whenever she saw them together. He wants to tell her to leave the frost of her boyfriend and come into the warmth of feeling he so badly wants to give her.

He would remind her that Bobby hasn't shown her the least bit of deference since the cure wore off, but to do so would ruin the little illusion she has around herself—and that would kill her.

He pushes her to touch and feel because he knows no one has ever done that for her before. He wants to show her that he isn't afraid, that being pulled inside of her—closer than Bobby, closer than Wolverine—is what he wants most.

When he tells her he loves her, her eyes turn guarded and she tells him what he wants to hear without really meaning it. Can't she see that 'love' isn't a word he's even uttered for at least a decade? He would marry this woman, give her babies if she would have them: and for a homme who gave up everything he knew to stay unmarried: that's saying something.

He watches her sometimes when she isn't paying attention and knows she dreams of blue eyes, icy kisses, naivety to the point of stupidity.

He lets her think she's fooling him because he needs her.