"But I don't want to be alright," she says into the hug. If she returns it, if she wraps her arms around him and squeezes, she might cry. So she just lets her arms hang limp at her sides and leans.
Her limp-armed leaning is fine. He keeps his arms around her shoulders and rocks side to side, just a bit, in the faint suggestion of a dance. A slow and sad one.
"Not all the time. No one is happy all the time. And maybe not today or tomorrow, because you're hurt and sometimes you have to feel it. But after that. A little bit at a time, more and more. You'll see."
Athessa grumbles. Not words, just general sounds of displeasure at being displeased. She grumbles and she leans and heaves a great sigh.
"Somebody ought to outlaw feeling like this," she says, muffled by his shirt until she turns her head to speak into open air. "At least then I could pretend to be roguish instead of a disaster."
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"Me, too," he says. "I would do it for you if I could. But you will be all right, I promise."
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"I wanna be happy."
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Her limp-armed leaning is fine. He keeps his arms around her shoulders and rocks side to side, just a bit, in the faint suggestion of a dance. A slow and sad one.
"Not all the time. No one is happy all the time. And maybe not today or tomorrow, because you're hurt and sometimes you have to feel it. But after that. A little bit at a time, more and more. You'll see."
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"Somebody ought to outlaw feeling like this," she says, muffled by his shirt until she turns her head to speak into open air. "At least then I could pretend to be roguish instead of a disaster."