— Would you take it?
— I'd take it.
— Would you wear it?
— Why would I not?
— That's my question. My wife was wearing it the night she was shot. And... I lie awake at night. At four in the fucking morning and I blame myself to her dead. I pushed some people too far.
— You want me to tell you this jewel is cursed. And then her death won't all be your fault.
— If I believed in priests, I would confess and ask for forgiveness. But all I have is you, Madame Boswell. I have a son. I have a business. I need to get some sleep.
— It is cursed. I feel its curse burning through my hand.