[It makes him angry, almost. A bright flash of something ugly and fierce that wells up inside his chest and threatens to spill out of him because it's true enough, what she says, and the overt pointing out of his own weakness quite expectedly burns. It burns, but there's only a moment where that anger is pointed in her direction, only a moment where he wants to reach out and crush her slender neck between his palms. Just a moment, and then it all turns inwards, transmutes back into the self-hatred that he knows so very well. He should neither want nor need her company in any sustained way but here she is telling him he can no longer have it and it cuts him down to the bone.]
Just come back with me, will you? Or at least consider it. This place...I can't stay here.
[Which is as good as a yes, to one or the other or both of her questions.]
no subject
Just come back with me, will you? Or at least consider it. This place...I can't stay here.
[Which is as good as a yes, to one or the other or both of her questions.]