[He has a point, but she also has to wonder how valid a point that is. If he were alive, he wouldn't insist she keep her food. He wouldn't keep so much distance. He wouldn't be so unbelievably lonely that she seemed like a fine choice in friends. He'd still like weird romance novels, probably, but even if reading were enough to bring them together, gathering up all those books wouldn't have been nearly as safe for him. He couldn't have done it, and he couldn't have coaxed her out of her shell as easily. Even not seeing his face for that first while had helped her be able to speak up -- barely.
Ryder rubs the heel of her palm into an eye, internally shaking her head at herself. This is so dumb. She shouldn't have said anything. With a sigh, she props herself up again so she can flip over and crawl back over to him instead, letting her face bury into the mattress without consideration for breathing or comfort.]
It's what we want. [...If he can understand her, anyway.]
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Ryder rubs the heel of her palm into an eye, internally shaking her head at herself. This is so dumb. She shouldn't have said anything. With a sigh, she props herself up again so she can flip over and crawl back over to him instead, letting her face bury into the mattress without consideration for breathing or comfort.]
It's what we want. [...If he can understand her, anyway.]