That uncertainty rings through him again, makes him shift his weight in discomfort. So much about Emma leaves him feeling wrong-footed, like he's some awkward kid in his school days all over again.
Whatever their connection is, it doesn't extend to reading minds – but he feels it, all the same. That little tug of want, that note of honesty singing through her – both of them in a tone so distinctly Emma that there's no mistaking it for the visceral instincts that these ropes binding them together force onto them, time and again.
It eases something in him, as much as he hates to admit it, hearing it in her voice, after a fashion. Knowing that it's her and not this. Genuine desire, rather than animal need, like some starving creature lashing out for some small morsel.
Still, it's a long moment before he can sort out his own thoughts on the matter – whether he wants this or not. Setting aside his near absolute certainty that Emma is better off without him, setting aside his resentment of being tied down like this, a small, distant part of him might actually— could actually—
No. He doesn't want this, enjoyable as every brush of contact is, as pleasant as that feeling of being whole is.
At a base level— maybe he just wants the company, too?
Faraday clears his throat, not quite able to bring himself to look at her, either. He moves further into the dark, cold house, head tilting slightly to point out his bag. ]
Let me just... [ He trails off. Starts over, ] Let me put my things down.
no subject
That uncertainty rings through him again, makes him shift his weight in discomfort. So much about Emma leaves him feeling wrong-footed, like he's some awkward kid in his school days all over again.
Whatever their connection is, it doesn't extend to reading minds – but he feels it, all the same. That little tug of want, that note of honesty singing through her – both of them in a tone so distinctly Emma that there's no mistaking it for the visceral instincts that these ropes binding them together force onto them, time and again.
It eases something in him, as much as he hates to admit it, hearing it in her voice, after a fashion. Knowing that it's her and not this. Genuine desire, rather than animal need, like some starving creature lashing out for some small morsel.
Still, it's a long moment before he can sort out his own thoughts on the matter – whether he wants this or not. Setting aside his near absolute certainty that Emma is better off without him, setting aside his resentment of being tied down like this, a small, distant part of him might actually— could actually—
No. He doesn't want this, enjoyable as every brush of contact is, as pleasant as that feeling of being whole is.
At a base level— maybe he just wants the company, too?
Faraday clears his throat, not quite able to bring himself to look at her, either. He moves further into the dark, cold house, head tilting slightly to point out his bag. ]
Let me just... [ He trails off. Starts over, ] Let me put my things down.