Dory sighed. Of course he missed her too, but confessing to it would make walking away that much more difficult. It wasn't as though they would ever manage the seamless connection they once shared again, nor did he want to. (Or did he? Looking at her now, Dory wanted nothing more than to lay besides her and tell her about his day.) Winnie was alive, he had the information he needed. That was enough, right?
"You didn't write." Dory said instead. It wasn't an accusation, Dory likely wouldn't have given her the satisfaction were the situation reversed. Still, the lack of knowledge either way grated at his nerves more than he cared to admit. It occurred to him for the first time in that moment that she might not have taken the potion. A new wave of fear nearly as strong as the thought of her dying washed through him again, causing his hands to grip the desk behind him with white knuckles.
"You're alright then?" He then asked, needing the confirmation for his own sanity.
"You didn't write." Dory said instead. It wasn't an accusation, Dory likely wouldn't have given her the satisfaction were the situation reversed. Still, the lack of knowledge either way grated at his nerves more than he cared to admit. It occurred to him for the first time in that moment that she might not have taken the potion. A new wave of fear nearly as strong as the thought of her dying washed through him again, causing his hands to grip the desk behind him with white knuckles.
"You're alright then?" He then asked, needing the confirmation for his own sanity.