But is that hatred inevitable? He chose you after all of that, didn't he? Oh, you know how few of our kind I've truly known, how much of our nature remains a mystery to me... but I just don't believe it has to be this way. I can't.

( He falters, doubt seeping into his passionate idealism. )

Perhaps this is nothing but more of my romantic ideals. But I do wish for your happiness, Armand.