Isla
"Very handsome," Isla remarks, giving his hand a squeeze right back and offering him another smile. She lets herself relax a bit now that the knife is out and his side is on its way to healing, melting out of work-mode where she sits with him. "Though I think it might look even better once you get a new shirt," she admits, nodding to the bandages and lifting his hand to kiss the back of it; to hell with it being made of metal.
Isla winces as she listens to him explain, more than understanding where he's coming from even if the idea of preparing for a war makes it seem as though it's inevitable. "It sounds as though you put a lot of pressure on yourself," she says, shifting to sit a little closer. "War isn't going to arrive tomorrow, Cal. You've got time." She thinks. She hopes.
Isla winces as she listens to him explain, more than understanding where he's coming from even if the idea of preparing for a war makes it seem as though it's inevitable. "It sounds as though you put a lot of pressure on yourself," she says, shifting to sit a little closer. "War isn't going to arrive tomorrow, Cal. You've got time." She thinks. She hopes.
sooner or later, we all have to wake
and try forgetting everything
and try forgetting everything
