[He's fine, letting her take her time to reassure herself he's real. He's doing the same, resting his cheek against the top of her head, fingers on her shoulderblades like he's afraid she'll vanish if he doesn't hold tight. Fuck, fuck, he's missed her every moment since he woke up in the hospital but the ache is all that much sharper now that it's finally eased. He chokes a little laugh when she reminds him that she's a prophet, and--
--and then that kind of ruins the moment for him.]
What?
[How could he ever, what girl could ever, he doesn't even look, not anymore.]
no subject
--and then that kind of ruins the moment for him.]
What?
[How could he ever, what girl could ever, he doesn't even look, not anymore.]
Of course not!