[ For a little while she is quiet, considering. Thinking of how often it is that they are strangers to each other— she and Byerly. The violent dichotomy of their intimacy; how quickly a moment of incredible softness turns to the heat of her fear fueled rage and the chill of his withdrawal. How the closer they hold one another, the easier it is to tear one another to shreds when they stray from knowing into nothing.
If there were more knowing, perhaps...
Finally: ]
You do not make things worse, Bastien. Telling a man who is unaware he has taken a wound that he bleeds is not the cause of the bleeding.
[ She'd been palming cashews as she picked them out, one tucked away for every one she'd revealed. She puts them on the desk now, a little offering. ]
no subject
If there were more knowing, perhaps...
Finally: ]
You do not make things worse, Bastien. Telling a man who is unaware he has taken a wound that he bleeds is not the cause of the bleeding.
[ She'd been palming cashews as she picked them out, one tucked away for every one she'd revealed. She puts them on the desk now, a little offering. ]
You make things better. It is better to know.