She didn't shift away, just let the silence deepen as she leaned there, content to get used to him just being there. It was still weird, like she was dreaming and was going to wake up at any moment and he'd be gone again. A part of her was terrified that the Capitol had just figured out a way to mess with their minds, that he was never actually there at all, just a figment of her imagination.
The personification of her desperate need to belong somewhere, anywhere. To not be alone.
But she could hear his breath, even and calm, and she could feel the gentle rise and fall of his shoulder, and she somehow managed to convince herself that he was there. You'd think the yelling would have done it, but no. She needed time to process, and she took it, with that small but pointed amount of physical affection, and the heavy arm around her shoulders.
She let out a long breath after a few minutes had passed, and began to speak, without moving.
"So," She murmured, "... They say you should never invest in funerals." She paused, completely seriously, and let it hang there. "... It's a dying industry."
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The personification of her desperate need to belong somewhere, anywhere. To not be alone.
But she could hear his breath, even and calm, and she could feel the gentle rise and fall of his shoulder, and she somehow managed to convince herself that he was there. You'd think the yelling would have done it, but no. She needed time to process, and she took it, with that small but pointed amount of physical affection, and the heavy arm around her shoulders.
She let out a long breath after a few minutes had passed, and began to speak, without moving.
"So," She murmured, "... They say you should never invest in funerals." She paused, completely seriously, and let it hang there. "... It's a dying industry."