What was once a warm and jovial evening that Amelia had been looking forward to had turned into something that she very much wanted to turn away from. He looked disappointed. At what, Amelia realized she didn't want to search her mind for any sort of possibility of what it could be. Years of being known as the disappointment in the family - the thing to be reviled - told her that it didn't matter what the reason was. It was just that it was her. The feeling in the pit of her stomach dropped even more and her expression fell at the start of his sentence.

This was it. She could see Mr. Fisk was closing his eyes, clearly preparing himself for the inevitable tears that she would likely shed on his behalf. She'd read their past interactions wrong, and he was about to tell her he'd merely come here because he wanted to keep a poor spinster company. Her heart sank. If this was what she expected, why was the disappointment so vice-like? Perhaps she should join Porphyria in her dedication to spinsterhood and –

The last part of his response hit her and Amelia realized she'd unintentionally mirrored him, shutting her eyes as if to brace herself for impact. But...that sentence hadn't ended the way she thought it would. Amelia blinked, turning her gaze to him and searching his blue eyes for some sign of redaction.

It occurred to her that, were this Barnabas in front of her, this might have ended the way it always did. Him slightly wilting under her inquisitive gaze with them arguing to no end. (In his defense, she did slap him a fair few times.) But there was always some part of Barnabas that Amelia didn't trust. Perhaps that's why she'd pushed him so much, was because she knew that at the end of the day she would never trust his final word.

Mr. Fisk's word on the other hand....he had stood his ground. It was difficult to imagine that it took only a few encounters to make Amelia realize how much she enjoyed his company. How much she trusted his opinion.

"You haven't offended at all, I assure you," she replied as a flicker of a smile made its way onto her features. He stood by his word; she could see it in his features. His jaw was set, determined, but she could see what she thought was a glimmer of doubt behind his eyes. Perhaps the same glimmer that rested in herself. Hopeful but afraid of the possibility of rejection. "Forgive me, Mr. Fisk," she began, every inch of her slightly tense to his response. "I suppose I've enjoyed these past few weeks so much that I was afraid I might have been..." She paused, glancing around at the almost dream-like quality the room had taken on. "Imagining how well things seem to have been going." Despite his previous answer, Amelia couldn't help but feel there was still time for things to...go very wrong. It would be just her luck.