[. . . ah. well, Akira doesn't know much about 45, so. . . he also can't blame Luna for being cautious. nevertheless? he frowns, lifts his chin up, shoulders squared with a small hint of determination]
I'd rather try and fail then not try at all. So.
[his lips quirk upwards, a confident smile meant to soothe any worries she might have]
[It definitely soothes her worries, but now she has no idea how to respond to that???? The confident flare, the reassuring smile...
There's a blossom of bright pink once more on her mask as she turns her eyes right back to the ground, stuttering for a moment and unable to look at him without feeling like some part of her might just instantly stop working, like the smile on her face might be out of place at what he had just said.
Her hand presses to her mouth for a moment.]
Y-you... you don't need to say it like that, really. I...
[the pink of that mask. . . it's the first time he's seen it, he knows that much. but when was the last time it flashed that brilliant? it's on the tip of his brain, but he can't quite remember--]
[. . .]
[ah. . . well. they're just masks created by the mansion, aren't they? it's probably not important]
Mmm.
[he makes a content, affirming noise in response to what she says. he'd say I trust you, too in return, but. . . she knows that already, doesn't she? so instead, as he hobbles away from the bottom of the stairwell, he extends his hand towards her once again. no more stairs!! now all they have to do is slip outside]
[She'll gladly take his hand, her hold gentle as she guides him off to the garden, only letting go to open the door leading to the outside. It's not unlike the last time they had been out here! Just... minus a few more people in their midst. It seems a little emptier.
For now, Luna is content to keep at a slow stroll, letting Akira set the pace and musing to herself quietly. She doesn't let go of his hand.]
...I hope Babo Kim was telling the truth about what he was going to do with the notes left behind from the trial. I haven't had the chance to look, but... I imagine they were extensive.
[it does seem a little emptier. . . weird how that works, when someone you really care about is no longer around]
[this time? Akira doesn't seek out a bench to sit upon. he seems content to walk, albeit at an extremely slow pace, taking in the view of the flowers and the sky above]
He was. I read through them after the trial. Ah. . . that actually reminds me.
[he stops, and digs through his jacket to produce the notebook they were all given]
I copied them, too. And. . . I think there's something in here you should see.
[he doesn't answer verbally. what he does do is flip through the pages of Phoenix's notes (all of them were copied in his aegean blue crayon) until he reaches the entry Nick wrote about her]
[quietly, he turns the notebook around so she can read it]
[LUNA AGE: 25? Basically the only reason all of us are alive now. She works so hard and isn’t well-rewarded for her efforts. I worry about her… a lot. I don’t think she trusts me…. I understand. She reminds me of But I hope she leans on someone. She’s so kind, she deserves some of that back. Peach said she could be saved…. I’ll fight for that, too. She deserves it. Even if she doesn’t think so.
...
Luna's composure slowly, gingerly begins to crumple as she starts to read, like a flower wilting under far too much rain. She doesn't say anything. She just looks horribly, sorrowfully pained, very close to tears.
After a long moment, her eyes drift to the ground, her good arm now wrapped against herself. All she can do is nod, a shallow motion.]
[yeah. he expected a reaction kind of like that. his own had been similar, when he had read his entry. he closes the notebook with a quick snap, before he reaches out to rest his hand against her upper arm]
The simple reassurance cracks what fine walls she had been trying to put up, all of the tight, horrible feelings in her throat and chest bubbling up all at once. She'll give another shallow nod as her face twists up, before covering the unmasked portion with her hand, barely stifling a sob under her fingers.
[it isn't fair. and Akira feels that tightness in his chest that he had been fighting down since Friday morning clench at his heart all over again. both at the way she crumbles, and at the reminder that Nick won't be there to pester him anymore]
[he strides forward, closing the distance between them, sliding his arms around her shoulders to pull her into a hug. with one hand pressed at the back of her head. . . he tries to guide her face into his shoulder, so she can use it as support as she lets out whatever feelings she had been holding in all weekend]
It's not the horrible, uncontrolled weeping that he had seen from her when Asch had been sentenced, where she could barely keep a hold of herself and her processes out of sheer shock. No, this is hollow, exhausted, weeks and weeks of hard work and confusion and existential dread and what feels like barely anything to show for it, all crumpling into a horrific crescendo with one man's valiant efforts for everyone, for HER.... wiped away in an evening.
It hurts. It hurts, it hurts, worse than the constant screaming pain from her arm. And how badly, how strongly she wishes again that it should have been her in his place. Why wasn't it her?
...
There aren't many tears, only a dry shuddering for breath against Akira's shoulder. It's only when she feels she has any control of her voice that she speaks up, quiet and trembling.]
[it's a heavy weight, and Akira can almost feel the pressure of those weeks of exhaustion bearing down upon him as she leans against him. he holds her as tightly as she'll allow, one arm firm around her shoulders while the other hand caresses her back in what is supposed to be a soothing gesture. he wishes he could do something to fix this. he wishes he could do anything to fix it]
[something more immediate, more potent, more tangible than just. . . poking around and hoping he stumbles across the answer]
[his reply is quiet, void barely above a whisper. his words are almost raw with feeling]
[The motion of his arms slowly guides her to rest her weight against him, a steady crumble of her composure, her arm slipping away from her face to curl fingers loosely in the space between them, resting against the rise and fall of his chest.]
Phoenix... h-he cared about all of you so much, and he was trying so hard... and he still--
[Her shoulders draw up, throat catching and voice so very, very small.]
...I don't know what else to do. He... he says I'm keeping everyone alive, but... almost half of us are dead... he's still dead... and I... I-I'm...
[She's still here. She doesn't voice it. She knows how Akira feels about the subject. But it doesn't change that this is utter agony.
Would the house just drag this on and keep her alive out of some sort of demented mercy? Could it even be called that, when every death felt like a nail to her heart?]
All I want is to keep the people here working together... to keep them safe... [Her fingers tighten against his clothing.] ...To keep you safe.
But I'm... I'm so scared. I've never, ever had dreams before. But I.... all I can see when I'm asleep, all I can worry about, is that when I wake up... this house is going to have taken everything.
I... even with everything he said... I feel so useless...
[it hurts, to hear her talking about herself like that. to hear her express her fears and insecurities and sorrow. it hurts to know that there isn't anything he can do to make it better, no matter how much he may want to. Nick is still dead, and right now. . . he can't do anything to bring him back]
[. . .]
[will they even be able to bring them back in the end. . .? he's heard hints of its possibility, but he has no guidance on how to achieve it. he knows he has to keep trying, no matter what, but even someone as strong and determined and ferocious as him has moments of doubt]
[moments where everything seems like so much. where the weight of his mansion bears down upon him like the pressure of the deep ocean. where everything feels like it's spiraling out of control. where he's holding someone he has come to care for very deeply in his arms while she cries and cries and cries over something neither of them had been able to prevent]
[. . .]
[he doesn't crumble. but he does bury his face against the top of her head, his eyes slipping shut as his grip on her tightens and her hair tickles his nose]
[She feels that tightening of his embrace, and for about the millionth time, she wishes her arm could be magically fixed, just so she could properly embrace the person holding her so close, trying his best to keep her from collapsing. Here he was, bearing all this weight once again... how many people did he support like this? How...
This compassionate, stubborn, tenacious spark of a human being in front of her... how exhausted must he really be right now? Even of his own admission?
Slowly, her arm moves once more, around his waist and up to grip at his shoulder, as though pressing herself to him might keep them whole for a little longer, speaking her words against his neck and not caring for anything, other than to escape the desperation that eats at her.]
I... don't want to burn out before I can see this all through.
I don't want to see it happen to you, either... I... I only hope I can give you anywhere near what you've given me...
[it's probably a good thing his face is pressed against the top of her head right now, because the movement of her lips against his neck draws a nice, scarlet blush to his features. his fingers curl into the fabric of her outfit, knuckles white]
You won't.
[he says that firmly, words slightly hoarse, like he's holding himself back from cracking]
You're so much stronger than you give yourself credit for, Luna.
[It's probably for the best, considering her own mask is going all over the place with colors. Not that it matters. That desperation turns from their situation outwardly to their situation currently, to how safe she feels in this moment, to how much she wanted to protect this... She can feel her head growing hot, tense under the emotion of his voice and how he clings to her.]
...Please... please let me take care of you until then.
I...
Just thinking about you not being here, not doing everything you do... it makes it feel like the whole world might become so horribly cold without you.
[Her head shakes back and forth, the feel of that messy black hair just barely brushing her skin, feeling the beat of his pulse hammering under her grip on his back. He was here, still so wonderully alive, and...]
I don't want to be here at the end without you there as well. I don't.
[she might notice that his pulse beats unusually fast, thrumming through his veins at the pace of a butterflies wings. he feels a lump form in his throat as she continues to speak, to ask him to let her take care of him, to tell him how cold the world would be if he were gone. and he can't help but think. . .]
[it'd be awfully cold without you, too. wouldn't it?]
[. . . he knows what his feelings are doing. he isn't so stupid as to miss the signs, he isn't so stupid as to misinterpret his rapid heartbeat, or the way his stomach drops with the thrill of the moment, like he's plunging down a roller coaster's incline]
[. . .]
[can he. . .? is it fair? in a place like this? especially considering how earlier in the evening he--]
[. . .]
[he pulls back from the hug, albeit only slightly, and he thinks-- you make everything so much warmer, so much brighter, so much more worth it]
[he thinks that as he presses his hands to her cheeks and meets her gaze steadily, not an ounce of apprehension on his features despite the way nerves are fluttering]
I'm not going anywhere. Okay? I'll be here until the very end.
That's a promise.
[. . .]
[and he seals that with an affectionate smooch against the top of her head]
It happens so quickly, and yet seems to slow time completely, him touching her face with the same dark eyes filled with fire that she has seen earlier this week, promising to her that he'll be there... Her mask quickly washed over with pink, an unfamiliar rush in her chest that feels so frightening and new, all of her extremities suddenly tingling.
And then he leans in, pressing his lips against her hairline... and it's like her heart completely stops. What... was this...?
What WAS this?
She stays almost completely frozen as he backs away from the affectionate gesture, her mask a deep, deep pink as her entire face starts to flush, eyes staring at an unfocused part of his shirt near his collarbone.]
...I... I-I...
[It's new. It swells her throat, clenches her stomach, making processes she didn't even know she possessed start lighting up like fireworks. To feel such intense fondness, admiration, a need to be close and connected, a need to protect and defend, a need to trust and to comfort... to be comforted... to be... affectionate...
To be...]
...A...Akira...
[It's breathy and distant, her body stone still and mask not showing any signs of turning blue again for how much pink dominates, different shades now blossoming like a fire.
Her voice is barely above a whisper.]
You... I-I... I don't... [Her blush only deepens, mind screaming in a way that isn't entirely unpleasant.
She swallows, her grip on his back trembling.]
I don't... want this to go away. [This, this, whatever this was, familiar but not, bubbling over, frightening and warm...] I...
Is... is that wrong of me?
Edited (Wow now that its not 1am LETS FIX THIS A LITTLE BIT) 2020-03-26 11:29 (UTC)
[she doesn't have to define what this means for him; Akira picks up on the subtext easily. his hands move from her cheeks to her fingers, his own clutching at hers tightly, both hands enveloped warmly in his own. they're soft. . . he thinks, and he wonders why he hadn't noticed before, despite this not being the first time he's held them]
No.
. . . it isn't.
[because the truth was. . . he didn't want it to go away, either]
There's a slow, pained exhale at that, her eyes drifting shut. She lets her hands be guided into his own, the palm of her left still completely limp, still bandaged up to the knuckles, the wrist, the forearm. It aches, how she can't feel the warmth of his touch, how she can't lift her own fingers to gestures as she wants due to her own foolish, foolish mistake.
Her mind fights, the process against the emotion, unable to define it and drowning her in an unfamiliar sea. What... what should she be feeling right now? The girl in the Chinese room, flinging books off of shelves, seeing those unfamiliar words on a page - his feelings in a voice, in a look, in the way he holds her hands, in the way her own chest feels so full that it hurts - it's just familiar enough that she believes she MUST know it, somewhere, but no part of her extensive database can put a definition to it.
Her good hand trembles in his hold, mouth opening, then closing, then opening again, struggling to even form the words she wants to say. In the end, she nearly says nothing, leaning in to rest her forehead against his chest with her shoulders hunched tight, feeling as though, if she were to look at him right now, her mind might crash entirely.]
I... [A shaking exhale. A swallow. The weight of his hands and the strength of his grip is so comforting...]
I'm... I-I-I'm so sorry. I... don't really know what's happening to me.
[There's an odd bashfulness to the words she stutters out, but it isn't unhappy.]
[there is no should in a situation like this, Akira thinks. emotions are often fickle and volatile and easily misunderstood, prone to swinging one way and then the next, impossible to grasp despite how thoroughly they move people. he thinks he can answer her question, but. . . he knows it wouldn't be fair. he knows that he shouldn't]
[he knows this is something that she has to grapple with on her own, just as he has to grapple with--]
[. . .]
[he lets out a small huff, giving both of her hands a squeeze, gentle pressure applied even to the one that is loose and lifeless in his grasp]
That's okay.
[even people who are purely human don't know what they're feeling half of the time. and as long as she isn't unhappy, then. . . it's fine]
You don't have to.
[she can approach this however she wants, and regardless of how she comes out at the end of it all. . . he'll be there. and the fact that he can't give her an answer is, perhaps, why he mildly changes the subject]
It's not bad that you don't know. Sometimes, emotions are just. . . like that.
[LIKE THAT, because he doesn't know how else to explain it]
Don't worry about explaining it, either. Just focus on recovering, okay?
[getting a good night's rest so she can be awake and. . . well, maybe not better, but a little more willing to move forward despite the pain of Phoenix's death]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
I'd rather try and fail then not try at all. So.
[his lips quirk upwards, a confident smile meant to soothe any worries she might have]
I'll do my best, Luna. For you.
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[It definitely soothes her worries, but now she has no idea how to respond to that???? The confident flare, the reassuring smile...
There's a blossom of bright pink once more on her mask as she turns her eyes right back to the ground, stuttering for a moment and unable to look at him without feeling like some part of her might just instantly stop working, like the smile on her face might be out of place at what he had just said.
Her hand presses to her mouth for a moment.]
Y-you... you don't need to say it like that, really. I...
I trust you.
no subject
[. . .]
[ah. . . well. they're just masks created by the mansion, aren't they? it's probably not important]
Mmm.
[he makes a content, affirming noise in response to what she says. he'd say I trust you, too in return, but. . . she knows that already, doesn't she? so instead, as he hobbles away from the bottom of the stairwell, he extends his hand towards her once again. no more stairs!! now all they have to do is slip outside]
no subject
For now, Luna is content to keep at a slow stroll, letting Akira set the pace and musing to herself quietly. She doesn't let go of his hand.]
...I hope Babo Kim was telling the truth about what he was going to do with the notes left behind from the trial. I haven't had the chance to look, but... I imagine they were extensive.
no subject
[this time? Akira doesn't seek out a bench to sit upon. he seems content to walk, albeit at an extremely slow pace, taking in the view of the flowers and the sky above]
He was. I read through them after the trial. Ah. . . that actually reminds me.
[he stops, and digs through his jacket to produce the notebook they were all given]
I copied them, too. And. . . I think there's something in here you should see.
no subject
You... copied all of them? [HOW LONG DID THAT TAKE YOU?????
She'll patiently wait for him, though, looking at the notebook with an odd mix of curiosity and concern.]
Why do you think I needed to see it? Is... there something addressed to me?
no subject
[he doesn't answer verbally. what he does do is flip through the pages of Phoenix's notes (all of them were copied in his aegean blue crayon) until he reaches the entry Nick wrote about her]
[quietly, he turns the notebook around so she can read it]
no subject
AGE: 25?
Basically the only reason all of us are alive now. She works so hard and isn’t well-rewarded for her efforts. I worry about her… a lot. I don’t think she trusts me…. I understand.
She reminds me ofBut I hope she leans on someone. She’s so kind, she deserves some of that back. Peach said she could be saved…. I’ll fight for that, too. She deserves it. Even if she doesn’t think so....
Luna's composure slowly, gingerly begins to crumple as she starts to read, like a flower wilting under far too much rain. She doesn't say anything. She just looks horribly, sorrowfully pained, very close to tears.
After a long moment, her eyes drift to the ground, her good arm now wrapped against herself. All she can do is nod, a shallow motion.]
... Okay.
Thank you.
[The words are empty.]
no subject
[yeah. he expected a reaction kind of like that. his own had been similar, when he had read his entry. he closes the notebook with a quick snap, before he reaches out to rest his hand against her upper arm]
If you need to cry, it's okay.
I'm here. And it's only me.
no subject
The simple reassurance cracks what fine walls she had been trying to put up, all of the tight, horrible feelings in her throat and chest bubbling up all at once. She'll give another shallow nod as her face twists up, before covering the unmasked portion with her hand, barely stifling a sob under her fingers.
It's not fair. It's not fair.]
no subject
[he strides forward, closing the distance between them, sliding his arms around her shoulders to pull her into a hug. with one hand pressed at the back of her head. . . he tries to guide her face into his shoulder, so she can use it as support as she lets out whatever feelings she had been holding in all weekend]
I had to RETYPE THIS ALL ON MY PHONE....
It's not the horrible, uncontrolled weeping that he had seen from her when Asch had been sentenced, where she could barely keep a hold of herself and her processes out of sheer shock. No, this is hollow, exhausted, weeks and weeks of hard work and confusion and existential dread and what feels like barely anything to show for it, all crumpling into a horrific crescendo with one man's valiant efforts for everyone, for HER.... wiped away in an evening.
It hurts. It hurts, it hurts, worse than the constant screaming pain from her arm. And how badly, how strongly she wishes again that it should have been her in his place. Why wasn't it her?
...
There aren't many tears, only a dry shuddering for breath against Akira's shoulder. It's only when she feels she has any control of her voice that she speaks up, quiet and trembling.]
I... I hate this.
TERRIBLE. . .
[something more immediate, more potent, more tangible than just. . . poking around and hoping he stumbles across the answer]
[his reply is quiet, void barely above a whisper. his words are almost raw with feeling]
. . . I hate it, too.
I'm so. . . tired.
no subject
Phoenix... h-he cared about all of you so much, and he was trying so hard... and he still--
[Her shoulders draw up, throat catching and voice so very, very small.]
...I don't know what else to do. He... he says I'm keeping everyone alive, but... almost half of us are dead... he's still dead... and I... I-I'm...
[She's still here. She doesn't voice it. She knows how Akira feels about the subject. But it doesn't change that this is utter agony.
Would the house just drag this on and keep her alive out of some sort of demented mercy? Could it even be called that, when every death felt like a nail to her heart?]
All I want is to keep the people here working together... to keep them safe... [Her fingers tighten against his clothing.] ...To keep you safe.
But I'm... I'm so scared. I've never, ever had dreams before. But I.... all I can see when I'm asleep, all I can worry about, is that when I wake up... this house is going to have taken everything.
I... even with everything he said... I feel so useless...
no subject
[. . .]
[will they even be able to bring them back in the end. . .? he's heard hints of its possibility, but he has no guidance on how to achieve it. he knows he has to keep trying, no matter what, but even someone as strong and determined and ferocious as him has moments of doubt]
[moments where everything seems like so much. where the weight of his mansion bears down upon him like the pressure of the deep ocean. where everything feels like it's spiraling out of control. where he's holding someone he has come to care for very deeply in his arms while she cries and cries and cries over something neither of them had been able to prevent]
[. . .]
[he doesn't crumble. but he does bury his face against the top of her head, his eyes slipping shut as his grip on her tightens and her hair tickles his nose]
no subject
This compassionate, stubborn, tenacious spark of a human being in front of her... how exhausted must he really be right now? Even of his own admission?
Slowly, her arm moves once more, around his waist and up to grip at his shoulder, as though pressing herself to him might keep them whole for a little longer, speaking her words against his neck and not caring for anything, other than to escape the desperation that eats at her.]
I... don't want to burn out before I can see this all through.
I don't want to see it happen to you, either... I... I only hope I can give you anywhere near what you've given me...
no subject
You won't.
[he says that firmly, words slightly hoarse, like he's holding himself back from cracking]
You're so much stronger than you give yourself credit for, Luna.
You'll see this through until the very end.
no subject
...Please... please let me take care of you until then.
I...
Just thinking about you not being here, not doing everything you do... it makes it feel like the whole world might become so horribly cold without you.
[Her head shakes back and forth, the feel of that messy black hair just barely brushing her skin, feeling the beat of his pulse hammering under her grip on his back. He was here, still so wonderully alive, and...]
I don't want to be here at the end without you there as well. I don't.
no subject
[it'd be awfully cold without you, too. wouldn't it?]
[. . . he knows what his feelings are doing. he isn't so stupid as to miss the signs, he isn't so stupid as to misinterpret his rapid heartbeat, or the way his stomach drops with the thrill of the moment, like he's plunging down a roller coaster's incline]
[. . .]
[can he. . .? is it fair? in a place like this? especially considering how earlier in the evening he--]
[. . .]
[he pulls back from the hug, albeit only slightly, and he thinks-- you make everything so much warmer, so much brighter, so much more worth it]
[he thinks that as he presses his hands to her cheeks and meets her gaze steadily, not an ounce of apprehension on his features despite the way nerves are fluttering]
I'm not going anywhere. Okay? I'll be here until the very end.
That's a promise.
[. . .]
[and he seals that with an affectionate smooch against the top of her head]
no subject
Ah.
What...
...
It happens so quickly, and yet seems to slow time completely, him touching her face with the same dark eyes filled with fire that she has seen earlier this week, promising to her that he'll be there... Her mask quickly washed over with pink, an unfamiliar rush in her chest that feels so frightening and new, all of her extremities suddenly tingling.
And then he leans in, pressing his lips against her hairline... and it's like her heart completely stops. What... was this...?
What WAS this?
She stays almost completely frozen as he backs away from the affectionate gesture, her mask a deep, deep pink as her entire face starts to flush, eyes staring at an unfocused part of his shirt near his collarbone.]
...I... I-I...
[It's new. It swells her throat, clenches her stomach, making processes she didn't even know she possessed start lighting up like fireworks. To feel such intense fondness, admiration, a need to be close and connected, a need to protect and defend, a need to trust and to comfort... to be comforted... to be... affectionate...
To be...]
...A...Akira...
[It's breathy and distant, her body stone still and mask not showing any signs of turning blue again for how much pink dominates, different shades now blossoming like a fire.
Her voice is barely above a whisper.]
You... I-I... I don't... [Her blush only deepens, mind screaming in a way that isn't entirely unpleasant.
She swallows, her grip on his back trembling.]
I don't... want this to go away. [This, this, whatever this was, familiar but not, bubbling over, frightening and warm...] I...
Is... is that wrong of me?
no subject
No.
. . . it isn't.
[because the truth was. . . he didn't want it to go away, either]
no subject
There's a slow, pained exhale at that, her eyes drifting shut. She lets her hands be guided into his own, the palm of her left still completely limp, still bandaged up to the knuckles, the wrist, the forearm. It aches, how she can't feel the warmth of his touch, how she can't lift her own fingers to gestures as she wants due to her own foolish, foolish mistake.
Her mind fights, the process against the emotion, unable to define it and drowning her in an unfamiliar sea. What... what should she be feeling right now? The girl in the Chinese room, flinging books off of shelves, seeing those unfamiliar words on a page - his feelings in a voice, in a look, in the way he holds her hands, in the way her own chest feels so full that it hurts - it's just familiar enough that she believes she MUST know it, somewhere, but no part of her extensive database can put a definition to it.
Her good hand trembles in his hold, mouth opening, then closing, then opening again, struggling to even form the words she wants to say. In the end, she nearly says nothing, leaning in to rest her forehead against his chest with her shoulders hunched tight, feeling as though, if she were to look at him right now, her mind might crash entirely.]
I... [A shaking exhale. A swallow. The weight of his hands and the strength of his grip is so comforting...]
I'm... I-I-I'm so sorry. I... don't really know what's happening to me.
[There's an odd bashfulness to the words she stutters out, but it isn't unhappy.]
no subject
[he knows this is something that she has to grapple with on her own, just as he has to grapple with--]
[. . .]
[he lets out a small huff, giving both of her hands a squeeze, gentle pressure applied even to the one that is loose and lifeless in his grasp]
That's okay.
[even people who are purely human don't know what they're feeling half of the time. and as long as she isn't unhappy, then. . . it's fine]
You don't have to.
[she can approach this however she wants, and regardless of how she comes out at the end of it all. . . he'll be there. and the fact that he can't give her an answer is, perhaps, why he mildly changes the subject]
. . . are you feeling better now?
[for a definition of "better"]
no subject
I... don't think it's bad that I don't know. It doesn't feel bad. But...
[She hums a bit under her breath, lifting her head a bit, her attention drifting to their hands with a soft, painfully fond look blanketing her eyes.]
Sorry. It's... hard to explain.
no subject
[LIKE THAT, because he doesn't know how else to explain it]
Don't worry about explaining it, either. Just focus on recovering, okay?
[getting a good night's rest so she can be awake and. . . well, maybe not better, but a little more willing to move forward despite the pain of Phoenix's death]
(no subject)
(no subject)