[L's answer is silence. His gaze doesn't waver, but a knit has appeared in his brow, a twitching downturn at the corner of his mouth before he corrects it.]

It's not that I mean to play coy.

[Even if he's good at it.]

Your right to a new life means that you should be unburdened by what happened in your past here, that you have no memory of. Alex doesn't know, and neither does Eli.

[Don't make me say it.]

It's tightly contained and doesn't ever need to be acknowledged again, by anyone. I'm content with that; I want to make a gift of its continued containment, to you.

[A parting gift, implicitly.]