Alexander's expression has gone strange and thoughtful. The sincerity moves him; he believes it. He often believes the things that Burr says, really. Not always -- no, not always.

He hitches himself up just a little more, and touches a light, sweet kiss to Burr's lips. It is an acceptance of Burr's words, at face value, without searching out any hidden barbs.

"My prayers for rescue have ever met with indifference," he says. "This time, I could not write my way off the island. But I was not helpless." He settles back down onto Burr. The knot pulls inside him, a pleasant weight. "And," though he turns his head down, burying it in Burr's shoulder, "this profession, I admit, is not without... compensations. It can be very pleasurable."