[She doesn't reply to the offer of the jacket, but after a moment she reaches out to take the gloves from him, tense as the movement brings her closer.] Thank you. [The words are mumbled, a reflex habit while her brain spins. She curls back into herself as soon as she can, but she settles into the snow, sitting properly instead of crouched there, her legs crossing under her.
At least the instinct to run isn't screaming in her every motion, every thought anymore. She's still cautious, but she isn't going yet.
She tugs the gloves on in quiet, watching them slide onto her hands, tugging them down as far as she can. They're too big, she can feel the space in them, and she runs a finger across the seam before deciding that petting the dog is the better remedy for her nervous desire to do something with her hands.]
How do you know? [That he isn't here. Her tone is tightly controlled.] They didn't tell me you were here. Are you sure he's not here and keeping to himself?
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At least the instinct to run isn't screaming in her every motion, every thought anymore. She's still cautious, but she isn't going yet.
She tugs the gloves on in quiet, watching them slide onto her hands, tugging them down as far as she can. They're too big, she can feel the space in them, and she runs a finger across the seam before deciding that petting the dog is the better remedy for her nervous desire to do something with her hands.]
How do you know? [That he isn't here. Her tone is tightly controlled.] They didn't tell me you were here. Are you sure he's not here and keeping to himself?