[ he doesn't know what she's going to say her, so different than all the times he's grown used to the kind of ways she'd respond to just about anything he says, like he'd memorized those details about her after enough weeks in her company, used to her habits like they'd somehow become an extension of his own.
but this — he doesn't know where it's going to go from here, out of the realm of the world they built, the bubble that brought them into that dingy old office again and again, sharing drinks in a tequila-drenched saloon, dancing until his eyes had gotten lost in hers. he thought he could get away with it, with just letting himself exist in that with her, like if he was gonna forget anyway, why couldn't he at least have one last good thing?
it was selfish. unfair. especially to her.
are you alright? how does he even answer a question like that? lately, the only times he's found himself "alright" was during those late nights, in the crummy corner of their office fighting the cold, her fingers curling around his own to hush away the bulk of the nightmares still haunting him.
swallowing, he spends a long moment saying nothing at all before he whispers, barely audibly, looking up at her. ]
No.
[ the truth. that's what he owes her now, nothing but the truth from his mouth, which is why he doesn't stop there. ]
Marta, changing your deal here has a cost. [ he takes a deep breath before sighing, trying not to avert his eyes from her. ] To save Clara, I'm ... every month, I'm losing memories.
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but this — he doesn't know where it's going to go from here, out of the realm of the world they built, the bubble that brought them into that dingy old office again and again, sharing drinks in a tequila-drenched saloon, dancing until his eyes had gotten lost in hers. he thought he could get away with it, with just letting himself exist in that with her, like if he was gonna forget anyway, why couldn't he at least have one last good thing?
it was selfish. unfair. especially to her.
are you alright? how does he even answer a question like that? lately, the only times he's found himself "alright" was during those late nights, in the crummy corner of their office fighting the cold, her fingers curling around his own to hush away the bulk of the nightmares still haunting him.
swallowing, he spends a long moment saying nothing at all before he whispers, barely audibly, looking up at her. ]
No.
[ the truth. that's what he owes her now, nothing but the truth from his mouth, which is why he doesn't stop there. ]
Marta, changing your deal here has a cost. [ he takes a deep breath before sighing, trying not to avert his eyes from her. ] To save Clara, I'm ... every month, I'm losing memories.