"I know," she says. "I never felt like you were a danger to me, Clive."
She looks at him for a long moment before she speaks again.
"I'll remind you of that. You're no brute. I would let you know when anything was too much for me, and I will remind you that there's nothing terrible about us giving voice to what we like or dislike."
No matter how long he’s been here, he’s brutalized far more bodies than he has held lovingly. Sometimes he thinks he could love her every day for the rest of their lives and it still wouldn’t put a dent in how many times he’s stuck a sword in another’s chest.
But he hopes she’s right. He hopes he’s a good person, and he hopes he can find himself with her.
His brow knits once more.
“Oh, Jill. No, you didn’t cross any lines. Certainly none I wasn’t goading you to come over with me.”
"We were both naughty, I suppose," she says with a strained laugh. She doesn't want to regret it, and he doesn't seem to, so perhaps it's fine. "You're difficult to resist. But... I'm glad we're sitting here, talking about these things."
“I am too,” he says. “And I’m glad we bent our rules. No matter how I feel about taking our time to know each other again, I think I was going to burst if I did not…”
He pauses, not sure if there’s an appropriate word. He just looks aside.
“I love you too,” he says, stretching out under her, gazing up at her, her curtain of silver hair falling between them, and he savours that kiss, brief as it is. “Let us go eat, then.”
“I’ll stay out of your hair, then,” he says, and he reaches and brushes his fingertips along the small of her back as he passes by behind her to get to his kitchenette. Given he doesn’t cook in it ever, it’s really just a row of dog-eared paperbacks and second-hand VHS tapes lined up on the counter, some empty cabinets and a fridge full of beer. Which, speaking of, he’s going to get. “Unless you want the company.”
He hums deep from his chest, glad his back is to her so he can let himself look a little satisfied with himself. Beer in hand, he grabs a paperback before heading back to the couch.
"Occupied hands. Good idea," she teases. She reaches for a shirt that had been half lost between the cushions.
"Is this new?" It's a shirt she doesn't recognize. "Did you actually go shopping?"
It's asked with a laugh because she can't imagine it. In all their time here, he's shown little to no interest in clothing beyond comfort and necessity.
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She looks at him for a long moment before she speaks again.
"I'll remind you of that. You're no brute. I would let you know when anything was too much for me, and I will remind you that there's nothing terrible about us giving voice to what we like or dislike."
She can at least do that.
"Did I cross a line on the sofa, before?"
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But he hopes she’s right. He hopes he’s a good person, and he hopes he can find himself with her.
His brow knits once more.
“Oh, Jill. No, you didn’t cross any lines. Certainly none I wasn’t goading you to come over with me.”
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He pauses, not sure if there’s an appropriate word. He just looks aside.
“I’m grateful.”
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She'll prove to him that a talk about their boundaries and comfort didn't spoil their day.
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"I love you," she says, "And because I love you, I will not claim victory over you while I know your belly is empty."
She kisses him briefly, playfully.
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"I really do need to finish this laundry," she tells him. "Your sofa is disappearing under it."
Not that it stopped them from their shenanigans earlier.
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In a few ways.
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“I’ll mind my manners.”
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"Is this new?" It's a shirt she doesn't recognize. "Did you actually go shopping?"
It's asked with a laugh because she can't imagine it. In all their time here, he's shown little to no interest in clothing beyond comfort and necessity.
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“If you didn’t buy it, my caseworker did.”
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"You don't remember?"
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“I have a lot of shirts,” he says. “If it’s one of the bigger ones, she did.”
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It's ugly, she thinks.
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“Ought it go out?” he says, mildly concerned.
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"Do you wear it often? I haven't seen you in it."
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Maybe somewhere in the times she wasn’t doing his laundry, and certainly not when she’s around. He must have slipped up.
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A simple question, but Jill can feel a tenseness in her neck.
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“No,” he says, to be cautious. “Give it away, then.”
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"It doesn't suit you."
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