She doesn't get it, he thinks-- all he wants is for her to go away, but she keeps coming back with more.
"No it can't," he mutters, curling the fingers of one hand into the cloak, wanting to make a fist but stopping himself. He doesn't want to ruin it. "It's just... prolonging what's already hopeless." He's tried talking. It could have worked, if he hadn't ruined it. He offers the cloak back to her suddenly, holding it out with a look that's trying to be hard and is instead just miserable. "You're wasting your time."