[At that sound, she knows for certain that he has seen, and she blurts a rushed, quiet,]
I'm sorry--!
[But she stops before she can make any further apology when his other hand touches hers, her lips pressing guiltily together. It's obvious in the way her brow knits that she's still ashamed, still so very sorry for forcing such a thing upon him, and so she turns her face to the ground - or is it to their hands? - and squeezes her eyes shut, grateful despite herself.]
[That gratitude may by what makes the problem continue, though less forcefully now; there's something very gentle about it, almost as if she were doing it intentionally, even though she actually isn't. These memories are of him, through her eyes - they're brief, practically blurred, but they span portions of the time before his last memory of their worlds' timeline, and they make it clear that she has faith in him, even through his flaws, and-- oh, what was that last one that just passed by, more slowly than the others because of its relation to the current situation? He likely won't recognize it, because it's part of his future; the hill in Twilight Town, looking up at a version of him that's much too tall, like the form he has now, hooded but still who she recognizes very clearly as him, and she is grateful to him then, too, for the life he chooses to spare her.]
[It stops suddenly, then, almost as if her powers are as startled as she is when that particular memory pops up. She sucks in a breath, looking up sharply with wide eyes.]
[(She'd meant to keep that to herself unless necessary--)]
no subject
I'm sorry--!
[But she stops before she can make any further apology when his other hand touches hers, her lips pressing guiltily together. It's obvious in the way her brow knits that she's still ashamed, still so very sorry for forcing such a thing upon him, and so she turns her face to the ground - or is it to their hands? - and squeezes her eyes shut, grateful despite herself.]
[That gratitude may by what makes the problem continue, though less forcefully now; there's something very gentle about it, almost as if she were doing it intentionally, even though she actually isn't. These memories are of him, through her eyes - they're brief, practically blurred, but they span portions of the time before his last memory of their worlds' timeline, and they make it clear that she has faith in him, even through his flaws, and-- oh, what was that last one that just passed by, more slowly than the others because of its relation to the current situation? He likely won't recognize it, because it's part of his future; the hill in Twilight Town, looking up at a version of him that's much too tall, like the form he has now, hooded but still who she recognizes very clearly as him, and she is grateful to him then, too, for the life he chooses to spare her.]
[It stops suddenly, then, almost as if her powers are as startled as she is when that particular memory pops up. She sucks in a breath, looking up sharply with wide eyes.]
[(She'd meant to keep that to herself unless necessary--)]