And I'm split in half, but that'll have to do
Everest watched her with that quiet intensity he so often wielded—subtle, composed, but wholly focused. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t bristle further at the mention of their names, though a muscle in his jaw did flicker once more when she said best interests. That was always the phrase, wasn’t it? Best intentions. Best interests. Spoken by people who always seemed to want something different for her than she did for herself.
But he didn’t argue the point, despite wanting very much to point out that Remi had been happily married during the time he'd been with the Remedy and being engaged or married had never stopped the Flood's extracurriculars in the past. When she finished, when she asked what he thought—really asked, without deflection or euphemism—he let the silence stretch for a few breaths, watching the way the light kissed the edge of her cheekbone, the way her curls shifted in the wind.
"I think I’d like that more than I can say," he whispers, a touch breathlessly. And gods, if ever there was a sign that Ever was infected, it was putting his own happiness above Isla's safety and health.
Unable to go to her properly, given the nature of their little boat, all the aviator can do is pulse his fingers against hers as his dimples bloom to life beneath the scruff on his cheeks. "It's the easiest thing, too. We could go and see Dahlia so you could meet her yourself, or..well, with Vox always listening, I'm sure we could have him here in no time at all."
But he didn’t argue the point, despite wanting very much to point out that Remi had been happily married during the time he'd been with the Remedy and being engaged or married had never stopped the Flood's extracurriculars in the past. When she finished, when she asked what he thought—really asked, without deflection or euphemism—he let the silence stretch for a few breaths, watching the way the light kissed the edge of her cheekbone, the way her curls shifted in the wind.
"I think I’d like that more than I can say," he whispers, a touch breathlessly. And gods, if ever there was a sign that Ever was infected, it was putting his own happiness above Isla's safety and health.
Unable to go to her properly, given the nature of their little boat, all the aviator can do is pulse his fingers against hers as his dimples bloom to life beneath the scruff on his cheeks. "It's the easiest thing, too. We could go and see Dahlia so you could meet her yourself, or..well, with Vox always listening, I'm sure we could have him here in no time at all."
