[He is reminded strongly of the moment she'd tried to fight back against the orb, the moment she had sent her own magic into his chest to combat its efforts, forceful and undeterred.

I won't let it hurt anymore.

He notes, without letting his eyes linger, the way her knuckles pale as she grips at her skirt, and he feels his heart leap into his throat. Her passion, her certainty— he has done his best to remain optimistic about his situation, determined to explore every avenue available to him to find a solution and not allow himself to rest until he had done so, but that became a tiresome load to carry on one's own. Even he couldn't force a smile all the time, try as he might.

To hear someone else tell him how things ought to be, how she's certain they will be— it renews his desire to continue to fight, continue to search. He's not beaten yet.]

If anyone could bring something into being through sheer force of will, Amelia, I am certain it would be you.

[There's a fondly teasing note in his voice, but he meets her gaze, and his own expression shows somber gratitude.]

It would be my pleasure to show you Waterdeep. I think you'll particularly enjoy the Castle Ward. It would be terribly rude of me to deny you that opportunity, I think— and so I won't be giving up just yet.