When I leave. [He corrects, firmly.] ...Three accursed years has been long enough.

[But, the greater his patience, the sweeter the reward, no? It's that thought alone has helped to soothe some of his restlessness. He shuts his eyes, reveling in the imagery conjured by his own words.]

Ah, but how glorious the moment when he will writhe like the worm that he is, begging desperately for death's swift descent. But... to no avail.