[The journey that her expression goes on is quite something at his question. From surprise to confusion to regret to uncomfortable and finally, a touch hurt when she looks at him, and only because she really was hoping he would let her move at her own pace in bringing it up. So there's a long stretch of silence that comes after as she tries to fight herself to find her words, a moment where she sets her bag down on the bench beside her, her mouth opening and closing and her gaze flitting about, attempting to resist the urge to look at him for too long.
Because she knows that if she does, she'll regret the things that she might say, and that she'll feel things that she isn't sure she's ready to feel yet.]
... It's not that.
[She begins slowly, her brows furrowing, her voice small.]
no subject
Because she knows that if she does, she'll regret the things that she might say, and that she'll feel things that she isn't sure she's ready to feel yet.]
... It's not that.
[She begins slowly, her brows furrowing, her voice small.]
Do you really get that impression from me?