She isn't demanding an explanation. Doesn't want one. Possibly because a part of her already knows. There's likely more than a little sliver of truth in his earlier observation. Not so much that she's developed a different version of the truth. What she heard in him is what she believed, not something she constructed out of nothing. But there's an idea that his attention being else where provides a good excuse for why they ought not to be spending their time together.
In some way, it was an escape. Keyword being 'was,' because as she expected to happen eventually, Balthier's caught on. More quickly than she anticipated, honestly. She's underestimated him. Hasn't been the first time she's done that either.]
Balthier—
[She just barely gets his name out while he's curling hold about her before he rests her against the edge of the sink. Maybe protesting wouldn't have changed anything. He draws her face to his easily enough, pressing upon her a kiss she doesn't know how to define. He's kissed her in a plethora of ways, but not like this one.
It still feels like anger, but maybe she has no idea what anger really is. It takes very little thought for her fingertips to spread and splay against his chest, fighting the temptation to grip and clutch. It shouldn't affect her the way that it does. Yet it does anyway. Tifa's words linger in her head. Talks of memories. The own confessions she's finally managed to say. Not to the person who needs or deserves to hear them, of course, but the point is that she's said them at all.
That makes them more tangible and real. More frightening and disconcerting.
He hasn't given her much in the way to withdraw from, so as she's trying to gather herself, she lingers near to him, the subtle throb of her heart and the shuddering of her breath. Her voice rests on the cusp of hushed and muted, betraying her uncertainty in tandem with all of the parts of her that hold affection for him.]
—I told you...
[They can't be doing this. He can't be saying things like that. Except apparently they very well can and he very well can, too.]
no subject
She isn't demanding an explanation. Doesn't want one. Possibly because a part of her already knows. There's likely more than a little sliver of truth in his earlier observation. Not so much that she's developed a different version of the truth. What she heard in him is what she believed, not something she constructed out of nothing. But there's an idea that his attention being else where provides a good excuse for why they ought not to be spending their time together.
In some way, it was an escape. Keyword being 'was,' because as she expected to happen eventually, Balthier's caught on. More quickly than she anticipated, honestly. She's underestimated him. Hasn't been the first time she's done that either.]
Balthier—
[She just barely gets his name out while he's curling hold about her before he rests her against the edge of the sink. Maybe protesting wouldn't have changed anything. He draws her face to his easily enough, pressing upon her a kiss she doesn't know how to define. He's kissed her in a plethora of ways, but not like this one.
It still feels like anger, but maybe she has no idea what anger really is. It takes very little thought for her fingertips to spread and splay against his chest, fighting the temptation to grip and clutch. It shouldn't affect her the way that it does. Yet it does anyway. Tifa's words linger in her head. Talks of memories. The own confessions she's finally managed to say. Not to the person who needs or deserves to hear them, of course, but the point is that she's said them at all.
That makes them more tangible and real. More frightening and disconcerting.
He hasn't given her much in the way to withdraw from, so as she's trying to gather herself, she lingers near to him, the subtle throb of her heart and the shuddering of her breath. Her voice rests on the cusp of hushed and muted, betraying her uncertainty in tandem with all of the parts of her that hold affection for him.]
—I told you...
[They can't be doing this. He can't be saying things like that. Except apparently they very well can and he very well can, too.]