[ Stop being passive aggressive in your brackets Boxer, she's not telling you about Royce.
It's just as frustrating as the last time — the honesty is almost addicting, yet this isn't of his own volition. One wrong move, and he'll pick up on the worst of it ( or miss it completely, which doesn't seem all that attractive either ). Nothing done, and he may still chase himself down the line of saying a bit too much than he's comfortable with.
Especially with someone else around. Or maybe... it's a blessing that he has someone to chat with the second time around ( no matter how unfamiliar he is, regardless of how her pulse picks up at the thought of Richie knowing more than he needs to ). Her lips press to a thin line, weighing her options. Drags the sword in complete silence otherwise, gently dipping her chin to nod ( knowing very well he'd continue without her response; but it'd feel strange not to ). Her free hand gently patting the hilt of the sword, as if that'll change something. A sign of comfort, a reminder of who he's with, or — something. Anything. She's not sure. It takes conscious effort not to tense her shoulders.
She feels her phone buzz. Briefly, she considers ignoring it entirely — which she does, for until they turn a corner. The path winding yet not forked, for the time being. As if they're actually getting somewhere. ( The > come closer. only gets bigger with every step ).
But that — that wouldn't be fair. Her free hand reaches for her phone, and letter by letter— ] None.
[ Which is the most truthful thing she could have said, unfortunately. There's a pause, before another message shows up. ]
It's a long story. Not for here. [ In other words: maybe later. ]
no subject
It's just as frustrating as the last time — the honesty is almost addicting, yet this isn't of his own volition. One wrong move, and he'll pick up on the worst of it ( or miss it completely, which doesn't seem all that attractive either ). Nothing done, and he may still chase himself down the line of saying a bit too much than he's comfortable with.
Especially with someone else around. Or maybe... it's a blessing that he has someone to chat with the second time around ( no matter how unfamiliar he is, regardless of how her pulse picks up at the thought of Richie knowing more than he needs to ). Her lips press to a thin line, weighing her options. Drags the sword in complete silence otherwise, gently dipping her chin to nod ( knowing very well he'd continue without her response; but it'd feel strange not to ). Her free hand gently patting the hilt of the sword, as if that'll change something. A sign of comfort, a reminder of who he's with, or — something. Anything. She's not sure. It takes conscious effort not to tense her shoulders.
She feels her phone buzz. Briefly, she considers ignoring it entirely — which she does, for until they turn a corner. The path winding yet not forked, for the time being. As if they're actually getting somewhere. ( The > come closer. only gets bigger with every step ).
But that — that wouldn't be fair. Her free hand reaches for her phone, and letter by letter— ] None.
[ Which is the most truthful thing she could have said, unfortunately. There's a pause, before another message shows up. ]
It's a long story. Not for here. [ In other words: maybe later. ]