[It's a good thing he speaks slowly and in a way she has to try to listen to, because it ensures that she actually does listen. She still wants to shrink back, a whimper breaking through every couple exhales, but she manages to stop forcing the distance between them. His face is covered, not that she's ever been very good at reading expressions, so she has to rely on his actions. They're submissive. She knows this logically and instinctually, even if she can't figure out why this is happening. Numbly, she shakes her head. No. No, she doesn't want to die alone.
Her face is wet. Her hand is wet -- and sticky, gross. Embarrassingly, she's pretty sure her pants are wet...but then, is it really the time to worry about that? There was no salvaging this introduction, and if circumstances were different, would she even want to? She'd probably give him some sort of clipped thanks and go on her way, unwilling to stick around someone else for too long. What's a little scary now is imagining him leaving. Ryder bites hard into her lip to suppress another sob. Her eyes are burning. Wiping the back of her good hand across them, almost toddler-like, she tries to focus up again. God, it's so hard. But she needs something to make sense.]
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Her face is wet. Her hand is wet -- and sticky, gross. Embarrassingly, she's pretty sure her pants are wet...but then, is it really the time to worry about that? There was no salvaging this introduction, and if circumstances were different, would she even want to? She'd probably give him some sort of clipped thanks and go on her way, unwilling to stick around someone else for too long. What's a little scary now is imagining him leaving. Ryder bites hard into her lip to suppress another sob. Her eyes are burning. Wiping the back of her good hand across them, almost toddler-like, she tries to focus up again. God, it's so hard. But she needs something to make sense.]
Wh -- y'n... [Those aren't words. Try again, Ry.] W-were yyyou...too? Or -- m'I losing it...?