[ the slight brightening in the room is a welcome change, one she wishes she'd thought to do herself, but...she feels rooted in place on the bed (partially because she's concerned that if she tried to get to her feet, her knees would just give out from under her). staying put feels like the right choice now, even if she's slightly mortified that she actually asked faraday to stay.
a moment of weakness, it truly was, but she's distantly grateful that she did. she needs...something. company, certainly, maybe not someone to talk to, but someone to be here with her.
because talking about her fears, about these weaknesses as she sees them, is not something she's all that eager to do. but at least— he's not pushing her to talk.
this opening up, this vulnerability? she's not good at it, never has been.
drawing her legs up to curl her knees against her chest, she just keeps watching him adjust the lamp, keeping a hand pressed to her forehead as she focuses on slow, steady breathing.
in, out. in, out. ]
Not...always.
[ sometimes. here and there, but not always. ]
Not every time.
[ small blessings. ]
When you have— yours...or...had— were they near so bad?
[ did they make him feel so trapped and helpless? were they so vividly violent and disturbing? she's not sure if she'll get another vague answer or something straightforward, but asking about his nightmares means she doesn't have to talk about her own. ]
no subject
a moment of weakness, it truly was, but she's distantly grateful that she did. she needs...something. company, certainly, maybe not someone to talk to, but someone to be here with her.
because talking about her fears, about these weaknesses as she sees them, is not something she's all that eager to do. but at least— he's not pushing her to talk.
this opening up, this vulnerability? she's not good at it, never has been.
drawing her legs up to curl her knees against her chest, she just keeps watching him adjust the lamp, keeping a hand pressed to her forehead as she focuses on slow, steady breathing.
in, out. in, out. ]
Not...always.
[ sometimes. here and there, but not always. ]
Not every time.
[ small blessings. ]
When you have— yours...or...had— were they near so bad?
[ did they make him feel so trapped and helpless? were they so vividly violent and disturbing? she's not sure if she'll get another vague answer or something straightforward, but asking about his nightmares means she doesn't have to talk about her own. ]