He watched as she half closed the gap between them, and he ached to be nearer to her, to step forward. Wanted to step forward and bring her into his arms again, to feel her pressed against him. It didn't help that she was reaching out to him, her own expression wanting. He finally gave in, because it was her, and he couldn't find it in himself to reject her. But even as he took her hand in his own, his expression remained fixed on her, dropping slightly as it struck him just how young she was. How bright and strong her life's thread was, and how much his was so tenuous, so fragile under Fate's knife every day he spent in the field.
"I should have been looking sooner, should have been less in my work, and perhaps if I'd just looked up, I might have found you at a time when you deserved me." Younger, and adventurous, like Rosier, though the thought of Rosier with Miss Skovgaard only served to fuel the seed of frustration that had risen in him. And even though he wished he had been less absorbed in his work, he knew that was not possible. It wasn't who he was, and he was willing to venture a guess that it wasn't who she had been either. Both dedicated to their work. Yet despite his words, he drew her into him again, this time much more tenderly than before, only wanting to feel her against him.
"I should have been looking sooner, should have been less in my work, and perhaps if I'd just looked up, I might have found you at a time when you deserved me." Younger, and adventurous, like Rosier, though the thought of Rosier with Miss Skovgaard only served to fuel the seed of frustration that had risen in him. And even though he wished he had been less absorbed in his work, he knew that was not possible. It wasn't who he was, and he was willing to venture a guess that it wasn't who she had been either. Both dedicated to their work. Yet despite his words, he drew her into him again, this time much more tenderly than before, only wanting to feel her against him.