[ there are two options: talk, and allow it to reiterate the strangeness of their relationship, this paradox between the hyper-intimate and the uneasy; or go silent, and allow her awareness of his apparent physical presence to grow. the latter, she's sure, is his preference, and for that reason she allows the quiet to linger, glancing at him out of only the corner of her eye as though to make sure he is still there.
she wants him to still be there.
her mind races, and her heart with it. poe had accused her — twice — of being on 'his side.' she's not sure what that means, or if it's true, but … surely this exchange leaves her feeling like he is on hers. it's nice that someone is. but then, even that feels traitorous, as though it affirms poe's paranoia.
there is also the matter of the way this quiet makes her want to reach for him. her fists clench to stop her from doing it, but it's a dual purpose of also trying to recapture the warmth of his hand.
stars, she can't suffer the quiet anymore. it's frightening the self control it demands. ]
Thank you.
[ ?? ? ? this is what comes out. when she finally breaks the peace, she looks up at him, her eyes shifting everywhere over his face, and occasionally also to the starved and thin space between them.
should she really be thanking him for being here? or the force? there is her standing theory to consider when making that decision, though it remains entirely unproven and actually it's rather optimistic to try and apply any logic at all to the randomness of the universe, but here she is. the words are out.
her mouth feels dry as she explains. ]
I needed someone. And then you were here. So … thank you.
[ doesn't that sort of affirm the theory a little bit? had she been reaching out for him, without realizing it? ]
no subject
she wants him to still be there.
her mind races, and her heart with it. poe had accused her — twice — of being on 'his side.' she's not sure what that means, or if it's true, but … surely this exchange leaves her feeling like he is on hers. it's nice that someone is. but then, even that feels traitorous, as though it affirms poe's paranoia.
there is also the matter of the way this quiet makes her want to reach for him. her fists clench to stop her from doing it, but it's a dual purpose of also trying to recapture the warmth of his hand.
stars, she can't suffer the quiet anymore. it's frightening the self control it demands. ]
Thank you.
[ ?? ? ? this is what comes out. when she finally breaks the peace, she looks up at him, her eyes shifting everywhere over his face, and occasionally also to the starved and thin space between them.
should she really be thanking him for being here? or the force? there is her standing theory to consider when making that decision, though it remains entirely unproven and actually it's rather optimistic to try and apply any logic at all to the randomness of the universe, but here she is. the words are out.
her mouth feels dry as she explains. ]
I needed someone. And then you were here. So … thank you.
[ doesn't that sort of affirm the theory a little bit? had she been reaching out for him, without realizing it? ]