[ Time feels like it slows in that moment. Perhaps it does. She's so used to finding the moment of impact, of reverting to original parts - it very nearly does. The teasing cuts off as she turns towards him, mouth curving into a frown. ]

[ Watches. Considers. ]

[ But why? He asks like a helpless child failing to tred water. Why? There's a million and one reasons as to why she wants to spit out but concern is something that floods her. That straightens her back and grips at her heart. ]

[ 'Don't apologize,' some harsher more instinctive part of her replies, it's the otherside that unfurls: ]

I can see that.

[ A beat, letting that linger as she steps closer. ] You never have to apologize to me.

[ Pointed. Then directionally, with all the cutting edge she's known for: ]

A life that only has happy ends begins to lose its meaning. If everything is perfect, how can any single moment stand out? Life is worth living for all of its ups and downs.



[ She thinks. She didn't once believe this in an era so no longer remembers. But she believes it now, in this moment, that even now sometimes feeling alive meant pain. Sometimes it meant joyous moments of pure euphoria. There are not many of those in their current state and perhaps - just perhaps - she feels less alive. It's why she adds:]


You know that.

[ The him buried inside, the him that he's saying he's not. ]