and now my bitter hands cradle broken glass

Maeve

Maeve makes a soft noise in the back of her throat as he presses a kiss to the tip of her nose instead of her lips. It isn't what she was expecting and she's not sure if she's disappointed or not. She manages a smile when he pulls back. It's small, but it reaches her eyes and she nods, "I think I can manage that." They're off kilter again. A weird in between that neither of them are entirely sure how to navigate. There isn't any heat in his voice. Nothing that gives away the way he might want her. There is a delicate balance to walk between the two of them. What feels like authentic flirtation and want as opposed to the front she puts on for others. Maeve isn't sure if he wants that too. Should she do more than she does already? Is this not enough?

His fingers wrap around her wrists instead, drawing her hands away from him and she sighs, trying not to seem deflated as he draws back from her. Maeve stands though, letting him tug her along towards the bathroom as she tries desperately not to think about the fact that they haven't properly been together since the fire. She draws in a breath, following after him slowly until they're both tucked into the small bathroom. Maeve waits for him to turn the water on before her fingers curl at the hem of her stolen shirt, hesitating to draw it over her head, unsure if he wants to do it or not.

I'm undone about to burst at my seams
'Cause I am picturing you beside me
So let me be everything that you need