It wasn't much of a concession, but Ford recognized that he wasn't entitled to any bigger one. He had been hoping not to have this conversation through the door, though. It was nothing short of a miracle that neither of his siblings had come up to interrupt them last night, given they both had demonstrated a past propensity for nosiness; if he had to speak through a door, the odds of one of them overhearing were higher, which meant the things he could allow himself to say would be greatly restricted. (He had no intention of ever letting someone else overhear a phrase like last time I was inside you, and nevermind that he'd had no choice in what Tycho said last night at all).
He waited a beat, then hesitantly tried the door when it was clear she was making no move to open it. It wasn't locked. He was relieved, but knew better than to read into the gesture anything other than heedlessness on her part. He slipped into the room, barely. He didn't actually want to be here, to intrude, to invade her territory, so he stayed pressed against the door as he shut it, taking up the bare minimum amount of room.
She looked terrible. He felt guilty for thinking so when he was the author of this, guilty for even looking at her at all when she had not told him to come in, but he seemed incapable of pulling his eyes anywhere else. Like watching a train wreck.
"We have to talk about what happens next," he said. Logistics; keeping the situation under tenuous control. Perhaps also something of an olive branch: they did not have to talk about last night... though as he considered it, he wasn't sure it was much of an olive branch, in the end. He would have just as much difficulty talking about last night as she did, and was no more ready to do it. "I need to know," he continued, with a slight waver to his voice despite his attempts to keep it level, "if you're planning to leave me."
He waited a beat, then hesitantly tried the door when it was clear she was making no move to open it. It wasn't locked. He was relieved, but knew better than to read into the gesture anything other than heedlessness on her part. He slipped into the room, barely. He didn't actually want to be here, to intrude, to invade her territory, so he stayed pressed against the door as he shut it, taking up the bare minimum amount of room.
She looked terrible. He felt guilty for thinking so when he was the author of this, guilty for even looking at her at all when she had not told him to come in, but he seemed incapable of pulling his eyes anywhere else. Like watching a train wreck.
"We have to talk about what happens next," he said. Logistics; keeping the situation under tenuous control. Perhaps also something of an olive branch: they did not have to talk about last night... though as he considered it, he wasn't sure it was much of an olive branch, in the end. He would have just as much difficulty talking about last night as she did, and was no more ready to do it. "I need to know," he continued, with a slight waver to his voice despite his attempts to keep it level, "if you're planning to leave me."
Set by Lady!