He takes her hand in the same second the impulse leaves her brain to take his. It's always warm, unless he's been toiling away into the night to deliberately numb himself. Jess wades through the silence, waiting for the next thing to trip out of his or her mouth. It can be morbid and sobering; momentarily free of dread, a dark comment would efficiently balance her out. None are coming to her, though.
She glances over eagerly at the sound of her name, but it lags behind them as they carry on their walk home. He comes up with something else to say than whatever abstract quandary he was about to express. The potential for conflict flickers out, riling her gently. She's fond of the new direction he's chosen, too.
"More of what we were just doing," she answers, omitting all the boring stuff in between: dragging the furniture back inside, taking their coats and shoes off, starting a fire.
3/4s of a million years later oh hiii
She glances over eagerly at the sound of her name, but it lags behind them as they carry on their walk home. He comes up with something else to say than whatever abstract quandary he was about to express. The potential for conflict flickers out, riling her gently. She's fond of the new direction he's chosen, too.
"More of what we were just doing," she answers, omitting all the boring stuff in between: dragging the furniture back inside, taking their coats and shoes off, starting a fire.