[Jean lets them go, nodding. She does her best to pull her mind back, not to feel the open wounds in his, even if it feels wrong to just leave them there. It's his choice, and if she doesn't respect that than she's no better.
And she won't let herself get caught up in the rage stirring in her stomach. Maybe later.]
Okay.
[Now she just feels awkward.]
...So, um, I made us a table. [Meaning she pulled out her computer desk and set her armchairs next to it. She gestures toward it with a lopsided smile.]
spam
And she won't let herself get caught up in the rage stirring in her stomach. Maybe later.]
Okay.
[Now she just feels awkward.]
...So, um, I made us a table. [Meaning she pulled out her computer desk and set her armchairs next to it. She gestures toward it with a lopsided smile.]