Cade offers a solemn nod, looking down once again. He doesn't have the words for it, it happened too long ago, but more than anything the situation made him afraid. Of people, of things of which the Chantry disapproved, the Chantry itself. Of himself. A dog that knows only fear is more likely to bite.
"It was my fault," he murmurs, haltingly, forcing himself to say something. "I was... different. ...am different." Inherently sinful, corrupted on a base and inextricable level. Everything that's gone wrong, he's brought on himself.