It was a good thing she hadn't finished the sentence, because Ford suspected that she'd been about to use some self-deprecating adjective, and he would have felt obligated to jump in to defend her from her own insecurities. But then she'd pulled her hands back, and he had to take a moment to (emotionally) process that, anyway. He felt the absence of her touch immediately, followed by a confused tangle of conflicting thoughts: it was good that she'd done it, because someone was wandering nearer and he didn't actually have any business holding her hands during a close conversation in the garden; there was a sense of chagrin that she had considered appearances enough to pull her hands back from him but hadn't stopped herself from admitting to something that most people would have balked at; did that maybe mean that she considered him a confidant? — a dash of hope at that, even if an actual return of his feelings was at this point rather hopeless. Particularly since she'd continued on to say that she'd had interests; he didn't know exactly what she meant by that, but he could guess. Even if her feelings in this particular instance didn't prove lasting, the chances that she would be interested in him at any point seemed vanishingly small. But that was alright — he could manage if she was happy, so he'd do whatever he could to ensure that happened.
"It's not that duration matters," he began hesitantly. "Not like there's some magic date line you have to cross before it's real enough. It's more... I'm not exactly an expert," he allowed, "But I think usually it — sort of builds up. Or — I don't know. I think you can feel it right away but it's... longer until you know it. Like — before you could say why. Am I making any sense?" He had no idea. There was a tangible difference in the way he felt about Tycho and the way he felt about her, and he wasn't sure how to explain it. "I told you I'm not a poet," he said. He didn't know what to do with his hands now that she wasn't holding them any more, and found himself stubbing the cigarette out on the nearest garden wall, just to keep them busy. "But listen — you can't just tell someone how you feel. I mean, you can, but you can't make them feel it. It doesn't translate. You've got to sort of — build up a case for it. Because you remember their favorite food and you can guess how they'd react to a story and you do things together and you tell them things you wouldn't tell other people and you smile when they're doing stupid little things no one else would think are funny," (he was entirely talking about Tycho now, and he felt — guilty? embarrassed? something — so his cheeks had started to color a bit). "And then when you say I'm in love with you, they believe you, because they already knew. Does that — does any of this make sense?"
"It's not that duration matters," he began hesitantly. "Not like there's some magic date line you have to cross before it's real enough. It's more... I'm not exactly an expert," he allowed, "But I think usually it — sort of builds up. Or — I don't know. I think you can feel it right away but it's... longer until you know it. Like — before you could say why. Am I making any sense?" He had no idea. There was a tangible difference in the way he felt about Tycho and the way he felt about her, and he wasn't sure how to explain it. "I told you I'm not a poet," he said. He didn't know what to do with his hands now that she wasn't holding them any more, and found himself stubbing the cigarette out on the nearest garden wall, just to keep them busy. "But listen — you can't just tell someone how you feel. I mean, you can, but you can't make them feel it. It doesn't translate. You've got to sort of — build up a case for it. Because you remember their favorite food and you can guess how they'd react to a story and you do things together and you tell them things you wouldn't tell other people and you smile when they're doing stupid little things no one else would think are funny," (he was entirely talking about Tycho now, and he felt — guilty? embarrassed? something — so his cheeks had started to color a bit). "And then when you say I'm in love with you, they believe you, because they already knew. Does that — does any of this make sense?"
Set by Lady!