There's a definite flush at that, and for a moment she doesn't know quite what to do with her eyes. Or her hands. Or anything else for that matter.
And oh, god, but she wants to be happy. Unfettered by all that currently lies between them -- after all, what he's suggesting, what he's implicitly offering is all that she's wanted. She wants to take those words and hug them to her, hold onto them.
But there's still a lot between them that she can't -- shouldn't -- ignore. As much as she wants to follow out of blind faith, there's still a lot that they need to sort through.
(She can't hide it, though -- he'll be able to see that little lift in her face. The flicker of joy that wants to exist.)
"It . . . wasn't always just for me, though, was it?" A breath. "And what is it going to take for you to go back to being yourself?"
Especially if he's all alone and there's no one working on this.
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And oh, god, but she wants to be happy. Unfettered by all that currently lies between them -- after all, what he's suggesting, what he's implicitly offering is all that she's wanted. She wants to take those words and hug them to her, hold onto them.
But there's still a lot between them that she can't -- shouldn't -- ignore. As much as she wants to follow out of blind faith, there's still a lot that they need to sort through.
(She can't hide it, though -- he'll be able to see that little lift in her face. The flicker of joy that wants to exist.)
"It . . . wasn't always just for me, though, was it?" A breath. "And what is it going to take for you to go back to being yourself?"
Especially if he's all alone and there's no one working on this.