She still doesn't know he meant that comment, the one about her, but from what he says they'll have plenty of time to piece out all the details later. It's hard to take something she's teased him over for so long as a real admission when all this other heavy shit is hanging over them, waiting for the ropes to snap.
"Televised?" she asks before she can get to any other thought. She looks around but sees no cameras, and hasn't for all her storming about earlier.
It provides just distraction enough that Dave gets his chance to get his arm around her, and it's happening. He is making this shit OCCUR. Rose for her part tenses up at the surprise contact, but he's warm and he's taller and maybe, just maybe she needed this. It's been too much today: her mom is dead, she was just about to die with him before coming here, and all this is a lot to take in after all the chaos of Sburb. She's hearing it and cataloging it, but barely any has had time to absorb. He's older than her, years older, and she's not yet sure what that means.
She slips her wide-sleeved arms around to encircle his waist. "I suppose I can offer some ironic indulgence for your fans," she says, but the clutch of her hands speaks sincerity.
She heard the warning, though. She chooses not to answer it.
After a moment she pulls back some herself, more reluctant than she'll admit to herself to disengage entirely. "I'd ask if we could find a place to sit and talk, but I doubt we'd find a chair that isn't mouldering in this place." She tips her head up to meet his gaze through the shades. "You have a lot to tell me. The Tumor wasn't the end, was it?"
no subject
"Televised?" she asks before she can get to any other thought. She looks around but sees no cameras, and hasn't for all her storming about earlier.
It provides just distraction enough that Dave gets his chance to get his arm around her, and it's happening. He is making this shit OCCUR. Rose for her part tenses up at the surprise contact, but he's warm and he's taller and maybe, just maybe she needed this. It's been too much today: her mom is dead, she was just about to die with him before coming here, and all this is a lot to take in after all the chaos of Sburb. She's hearing it and cataloging it, but barely any has had time to absorb. He's older than her, years older, and she's not yet sure what that means.
She slips her wide-sleeved arms around to encircle his waist. "I suppose I can offer some ironic indulgence for your fans," she says, but the clutch of her hands speaks sincerity.
She heard the warning, though. She chooses not to answer it.
After a moment she pulls back some herself, more reluctant than she'll admit to herself to disengage entirely. "I'd ask if we could find a place to sit and talk, but I doubt we'd find a chair that isn't mouldering in this place." She tips her head up to meet his gaze through the shades. "You have a lot to tell me. The Tumor wasn't the end, was it?"