Ten months. Seven months into his future, and it shouldn't seem like such a span of time, but he knows better. He knows that in that time, he would have had the opportunity to prove just how determined he was to forge that new path, or how willing to fall back into old habits.

She holds the answer. And she doesn't withhold what he then immediately longs for, the truth spilling out seconds later. The relief is palpable. He lets the words sink into him before his shoulders go slightly slack, his expression easing somewhat.

He's held true, then. Whether it's a change rendered here when he inevitably returns, or whether it was the result of his own conviction, it doesn't matter.

"Was I successful?"