Shay rose with Vera, both as a sign of solidarity and an earnest desire for privacy. Shoving the paper and pencil into a pocket after folding them quickly, Shay did his best to ignore the lingering gazes. "Let's take a walk and see where it takes us. I feel as if we need some air." The two quickly gathered their coats and began to walk the gauntlet of their friends and associates taking in the new revelation of exactly what their relationship was. Shay met eyes with Sam with apprehension, worried about what he would think. To his surprise, Sam smiled at him with a wink. 

It was not at all what he'd expected. Approval was the last thing he felt he'd get for seeing Vera.

Soon, the couple stepped out into the street, and Shay helped Vera pull her coat over her shoulders to protect her from the nip of the winter air. Offering his hand, Shay and Vera began to walk aimlessly down the street, the gentle snowfall dancing past the street lights almost looking romantic in this context. After a few moments of silence as both looked for their words, Shay spoke. "Look, Vera, I meant what I said. I truly am sorry for how I've behaved towards you the past while. I... I should have known there'd been times where being with you would have challenges, and I'm less of a man for having been too weak to stand by you when you needed me most." Shay said, a long sigh escaping his lungs, leaving a cloud of steam in the air before him. 

"Truth is, Vera, I'm scared of being discarded by the very few people who actually give a shite about me. I've been along most of my life, you see. People in Cork didn't give a shite about who I was. They just saw me as an English child with the wrong accent. My sister suffered through it, too. I came to London to try and find the family and acceptance I never had in Ireland only to find the people here are worse. Very few people look at me with respect, let alone affection. It took a long while for the boys in the Roughers to come around to me. You saw how that bastard in the tailor treated me. All on account of where I was born." He shook his head slowly, closing his eyes as he came to a stop. He took Vera's other hand in his own, and he moved to face her head on. 

"I know this whole painting burglary is against a pair of rich aristocrats with more money than they'll ever need, who would never consider us as humans if they met as as we truly are, but I really need you to understand that the reason I hate the idea of doing it is the fact that they never once made me feel like I was less of a person for where I was born. They treated me like a friend, all without recoiling or reacting as if my accent were a pox. I know it's just a job, and we need the money and there's a need to not get attached to our marks but... Vera, do you know how it feels when the two people you thought it would be easy to hate for being born in a country that you were conditioned to hate and slaughter its men by the dozens only to find out that they were two of the nicest people I've ever met in my adult life, only to be told I should be ashamed of having compassion  for them?" he asked, his voice strained. The emotion of the evening was carrying to this moment as he confessed to her what was eating away at him.