Once they had some distance between them and where he'd found her, Irene could feel the air of the little town twirl around them, enveloping her in a comforting way. It cleared her head somewhat, though only so much to take the edge off of the panic that had been plaguing her for the past few days. She sought comfort in walking home with him. It was a path they'd taken so many times, and yet each time they made it to her flat and he bid her goodbye, it was too soon and Irene wished she could skip back to the beginning just to repeat the walk with him all over again, because that time was theirs. And yet, Elias was not hers, nor would he likely ever be. So Irene wrapped up the memory of these walks in small parcels of gold to carry next to her heart every time she walked the path alone.

But this time, she wasn't alone, and she was grateful. Of course he likely didn't know how grateful she was for him, because well, she was a coward, wasn't she? Any sort of feelings she had for him were quickly trampled by the ghosts of her past, whispering to her that he would just reject her, then pity her, and Irene refused to bear that, because she never wanted to cause him pain.

And yet for all of her wanting to shield him from her pain, here she was, walking home with him supporting her, and his gaze fixated on her in such a way that made her want to reach up and tenderly press the crinkle out of his worried brow. I'm fine, She wanted to say again, but the words wouldn't form; refused to. Instead she heaved a sigh, moving her gaze back to in front of them as she shook her head. "No," She said quietly, praying her voice to keep steady. "I haven't been sleeping. In fact, I've been quite wretched these past few days."

It was hard to sleep when visions of Mr. Hunt's death kept swimming into sight every time she closed her eyes.

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