we're always running scared but holding knives
The situation goes for the both of them; if Remi's collar hadn't been there, Isla might be missing a jugular right now. And if she wasn't a doctor and hadn't done so much extensive research on Remi's condition, she might have panicked and tried to run. As it so happens, while it might look counterintuitive, Isla has remained exactly in place so as not to act quite so much like prey. Only when Remi comes back, for lack of better word, does she let out the breath she's been holding.
"Understood," she murmurs, knowing better than to continue to jest at the very real possibility of losing her life to a lack of failsafes. "Next time I'll make sure you're given enough space to make the transition as easy as it can be." And suddenly Isla finds herself frowning softly at Remi, as if already missing the green-eyed man who had been able to sit so comfortably in her presence. (Er, erections aside, of course).
"I'm so sorry this happened to you, Remi," she murmurs, shaking her head; she can't ever remember having said it, not in all this time. "It can't be easy, having these instincts but still being so self-aware."
"Understood," she murmurs, knowing better than to continue to jest at the very real possibility of losing her life to a lack of failsafes. "Next time I'll make sure you're given enough space to make the transition as easy as it can be." And suddenly Isla finds herself frowning softly at Remi, as if already missing the green-eyed man who had been able to sit so comfortably in her presence. (Er, erections aside, of course).
"I'm so sorry this happened to you, Remi," she murmurs, shaking her head; she can't ever remember having said it, not in all this time. "It can't be easy, having these instincts but still being so self-aware."
Isla
