"2005." He does not say still. The annoyance of that unchanging fact is already compounded upon each time. The number of days is always ludicrious in comparison.

"Years for you." Again. "You're--"

Edward countenance is light, but his gaze is exacting, specific, as though looking through him. Which he is up to a point. Carlisle is only thinking so much though so far.

"--different."