Because I deserve to hear it. [ something trembles in credence's face then, when graves says that. it's difficult to say whether it's fury or a deep and desperate hurt or both. but something flashes across his face before it shutters away entirely, jaw set and tight. he can't get out any more than those few words for a moment.

to have graves say that, to assume that he wants it out of something cruel or selfish, hurts him to the core. it feels a little like his heart's been ripped out of his chest and he wants to just--sob, to throw something, to coil the pain around himself until that's all he is. everything that i give you rings in his ears over and over and he tips his chin up to turn and walk stiffly into the kitchen and grab the key and notecard off the counter to bring back to graves so that he can hold them out to him, eyes sharp but blank. ] If you're worried about everything you give me, don't worry. I'll pay you back.

[ he pushes his hand with the key and address out further, urging graves to take it. ] Here. Your key and my new address. My number is going to stay the same. If you ever decide that saying three words to me isn't going to kill you or let me cut off your hair like Samson, you'll know where I am.