Dean nearly winced. He knew it sounded like a death-sentence to a debutante, but he wasn't that much older than her, hardly a few years and his life was hardly over. Perks of being a man, he supposed. He frowned a little bit, both because he could understand familial pressure, though his wasn't that bad now that he had a solid ministry career. But also, he thought she was selling herself short. Dean had never been under the impression that a marriage had to be about love either, so he was going to have to defer to her preference there. That his sister had jumped off the deep end and was head over heels for her husband was the exception to the rule, he thought.

"But you might at least like him, be friends, companionable; wouldn't you expect the same of him, for him to be faithful?" This was all well above his pay grade, but he was trying to understand where she was coming from and so he was purposefully asking these questions. Maybe he was looking for a loophole so even when she did marry they could carry on. Dean really didn't know, but he had to ask anyway.

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"Maybe he also won't be monogamous," Hanna said, stumbling a little on the word. She shrugged her shoulders at Dean. "It's — hard to plan long-term about someone when neither of us know anything about him."

It was hard to plan long-term about someone when on her worse days — and this week had had several of her worse days in it — Hanna didn't really believe that he existed. Saying as much out loud to Dean would concern him, she knew — so she was going to have to try to keep it in for as long as she could manage.

  

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set by Bee

She had him there, but Dean still worried. There were a lot of things up in the air at the moment and what concerned him the most was how well he would be able to keep up the juggling act. "I guess we can cross that bridge when we get to it, then." He decided with what he hoped was a reassuring smile. He took a long sip of his whiskey, letting the burn slide down his throat before continuing.

"Anything else you want to talk about?" Dean had said he'd answer any of her questions, so if there was anything else on her mind, he figured now was a good time. It was hard for him to read the mood, given that he hadn't even been sure she wanted anything to do with him anymore. Even though that didn't seem to be the case, he still worried that he'd clouded everything with his decisions and he wanted to make sure everything was out on the table before anything got muddled again.

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Hanna hummed, tapped her finger against her wine glass, considered. She took a large sip of it. "Do you like me?" she asked. It was the only question that felt like it mattered in this moment, but it was also a risky one.

  

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set by Bee

This conversation kept taking unexpected turns. He pondered her question for a moment, though his initial reaction was one of incredulity. He would have hoped it was obvious, but it if wasn't, he wasn't doing a very good job articulating himself, or perhaps he wasn't being effusive enough. It was more difficult in the times where they were in public, but he thought he'd made his feelings more obvious in private. Clearly he hadn't and that fault was his.

He passed her a pensive look, reaching out his free hand to run his fingers along the neckline of her dress where it met her shoulder. "What do you think?" His tone exuded patience, no sarcasm, just a genuine curiosity. Maybe if he understood her question better, he could soothe her concerns more effectively. Dean liked to think himself responsive enough to fit the needs of his partners and if she needed reassurance, especially now when things were a little tumultuous, he wanted to do it properly and thoroughly.

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Hanna liked the feeling of his fingers on her skin, and and leaned towards him. She sighed. "I'm not good at — figuring out people's intentions," she said, her tone suddenly tired. "Or what people think of me." She had been. Before the blood curse sank in, back when she was a teenager, she had generally been able to figure people out. Maybe not right away, but eventually. Now it was just — hard. Occasionally impossible.

  

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set by Bee

Her answer surprised him again. Dean knew she could struggle socially, but supposed he hadn't realized it went that deep. He wanted to make sure he reassured her enough so that she knew what his intentions were. "I'm sorry if I haven't done a very good job showing you my intentions. I wouldn't put in so much effort if I wasn't enjoying spending time with you." He curled his finger into a loose strand of hair gently, back of his hand brushing against her neck. Maybe he needed to be more outspoken about it? Everybody had a different way of feeling connected and he wanted to make sure he got hers right so that she felt more comfortable in their situation. He liked to think he was pretty good at figuring it out on his own, but Hanna was proving to be a bigger puzzle than he'd anticipated. A more direct approach might work. "What do you need from me to make you feel more sure?"

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She liked the touch of his hand against her neck, and the way he played with her hair. She felt guilty that she could not just trust herself to believe that she understood him.

"You always physically show me," Hanna said, with a slow smile spreading across her face, "But it would be helpful if I had your words, too." Dean struck her as a physical communicator, often — but if he backed things up with his words, it would be even harder for her to convince herself that this was some sort of trick.

  

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set by Bee

"Done," he nodded. It was an easy ask. Much as he worked with words for a living, he wasn't always the best with them in his personal life for whatever reason, but he could certainly do better by her in that way if that was what she wanted. Maybe he'd done it unintentionally, trying to keep things superficial and physical from the start, but he'd already demonstrated this went a little deeper than he'd originally set out for it to be, so he supposed he may as well just go with it.

He took another pensive sip of his whiskey and eyed her carefully. "Were the flowers too much? Did anyone have questions?" He'd felt guilty and he couldn't sign a card, but he'd wanted to let her know he hadn't forgotten about her. "I didn't know your favorite, but I let the florist just make something appropriate for sorry." He shrugged, a sheepish smile on his lips. The young woman at Wildflowers had assured him some semblance of secrecy, though he suspected she would likely forget soon after anyway.

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Hanna smiled back at him, her expression immediately betraying that she'd been charmed by the flowers. "They were intrigued but they didn't ask a lot of questions," she answered, with a light laugh. "Now if you sent them often, then I think I would get questions."

It was the first time she'd gotten flowers from a man, but that was a difficult sort of thing to admit to Dean.

  

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set by Bee