[Oooooh boy. That sounds... kind of precarious, but definitely efficient. And, besides, it'd be fun, wouldn't it? Nothing to worry about, just careening around with a load of books. After all, it had kind of been thrilling last time, even if her stomach hadn't really agreed. ...Maybe they would go a little more slowly.] Sure...! That would work.
[She watches him quietly, curious about what he'd meant to do. She can guess; her hands curl more tightly together off-screen as she considers doing just that herself but decides against it. Her mouth threatens to turn downward but she holds it back. She's hesitant to ask, but she thinks she probably should, if only to attempt to accurately assess what it is he's going through - she knows it would make no sense, since both of them are Nobodies, and yet...] Your heart's telling you that they're wrong? [It's definitely a question with just a touch of suggestion, like she's offering the possible end of a sentence.]
[Despite her best efforts, her expression steadily becomes more and more somber itself. His friends--.... Simultaneously, she wishes that she could and hates the idea of telling him the truth, that those friends, the way he knows them, are not real, that the only 'real' friends he'd ever had weren't really all that real, either. He asked for ignorance and she continues to oblige him, and at once she feels both guilty and relieved. She tries to hide it, but it's there, lurking in the edges of her expression. She wishes there was something she could do, but anything she might have been able to do would be a lie; fake friends, no matter which way it went - illusions of friends or the illusion of friendship. She knows there's no substitute, and even if there was she would not have been an acceptable one (no matter how much she wished she could be a good enough friend to make him feel at least a little better).] ...I know. [It's soft an full of regret, but when she speaks again she has better control over the tone of her voice - even still it leaks through, just a bit.] It's-- hard, being away from the people you care about, and who care about you. [Not that she'd really had much experience with that, but she could only imagine how horrible it would be if she'd actually been able to have such close relationships. Funny how it was easier to accept that he might have a connection with people like that than it was to think that she might, regardless of their shared Nobody status.] I don't think anyone would blame you. And... I know that it probably won't be enough, but... there are good people here. You can-- make friends here, too.
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[She watches him quietly, curious about what he'd meant to do. She can guess; her hands curl more tightly together off-screen as she considers doing just that herself but decides against it. Her mouth threatens to turn downward but she holds it back. She's hesitant to ask, but she thinks she probably should, if only to attempt to accurately assess what it is he's going through - she knows it would make no sense, since both of them are Nobodies, and yet...] Your heart's telling you that they're wrong? [It's definitely a question with just a touch of suggestion, like she's offering the possible end of a sentence.]
[Despite her best efforts, her expression steadily becomes more and more somber itself. His friends--.... Simultaneously, she wishes that she could and hates the idea of telling him the truth, that those friends, the way he knows them, are not real, that the only 'real' friends he'd ever had weren't really all that real, either. He asked for ignorance and she continues to oblige him, and at once she feels both guilty and relieved. She tries to hide it, but it's there, lurking in the edges of her expression. She wishes there was something she could do, but anything she might have been able to do would be a lie; fake friends, no matter which way it went - illusions of friends or the illusion of friendship. She knows there's no substitute, and even if there was she would not have been an acceptable one (no matter how much she wished she could be a good enough friend to make him feel at least a little better).] ...I know. [It's soft an full of regret, but when she speaks again she has better control over the tone of her voice - even still it leaks through, just a bit.] It's-- hard, being away from the people you care about, and who care about you. [Not that she'd really had much experience with that, but she could only imagine how horrible it would be if she'd actually been able to have such close relationships.
Funny how it was easier to accept that he might have a connection with people like that than it was to think that she might, regardless of their shared Nobody status.] I don't think anyone would blame you. And... I know that it probably won't be enough, but... there are good people here. You can-- make friends here, too.