( it's a question that holds a different weight, isn't implied with the same sort of baited breath as one might if they were catching up with just someone. perhaps more fitting might've been a 'how bad is it?', because she's never known him without the garish hue of bruises, without a tight-set jaw and a trigger finger to flee. )
Okay. ( is all she manages at first, an assurance that beckons her back from the ledge, as if there wasn't something else waiting to sink its teeth into her.
it feels... stiff. unfamiliar, at least for now. how long has it been? she reaches back into her memories, fingertip idly circling the coffee mug sat before her. how many times can she keep picking up from where they left off? she winces, internally, as if she doesn't know how to hold conversation. as if he had to want something from her to reach out again, after all this time. )
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Okay. ( is all she manages at first, an assurance that beckons her back from the ledge, as if there wasn't something else waiting to sink its teeth into her.
it feels... stiff. unfamiliar, at least for now. how long has it been? she reaches back into her memories, fingertip idly circling the coffee mug sat before her. how many times can she keep picking up from where they left off? she winces, internally, as if she doesn't know how to hold conversation. as if he had to want something from her to reach out again, after all this time. )
Are you in the city?