Maeve
He doesn't yell. He doesn't scream. There's nothing but a cold finality to his voice. A lack of light in his eyes. He stares at her, letting the words fall so easily from his lips and she doesn't know how to take them, doesn't know what to do. An argument starts to form, words trying to push past her lips, feelings needing to make themselves known. Before she can manage to pull them together into a coherent thought he's standing, towering over her and making her feel so fucking small, so insignificant beneath the scrutiny of his gaze.
The pain catches her off guard. The sharp feeling that lances through her as it sinks in. I don't think this is working out. Maeve sucks in a sharp breath, tears slipping down her cheeks hotly as she chokes back a sound that might be a sob, shaking her head as she stands. "Locke... Please. Just- just tell me what's wrong. What can I do?" The words tumble out in a rush as she tries to slip around the table towards him, reaching for him as if just touching him will break whatever this is.
The pain catches her off guard. The sharp feeling that lances through her as it sinks in. I don't think this is working out. Maeve sucks in a sharp breath, tears slipping down her cheeks hotly as she chokes back a sound that might be a sob, shaking her head as she stands. "Locke... Please. Just- just tell me what's wrong. What can I do?" The words tumble out in a rush as she tries to slip around the table towards him, reaching for him as if just touching him will break whatever this is.
Babe, there's something wretched about this
Something so precious about this
Oh what a sin
Something so precious about this
Oh what a sin
