But she doesn't go. Doesn't move. Her fingers never falter, cool and constant on his arm.
Her voice drops, no less anxious or frightened, but for his ears only. "Steven . . . I know things about you. I know you and Greg. I can't tell you how right now, but . . . I can promise you can trust me. I hope you can believe me. I won't -- I can't -- ever hurt you. I never will."
A breath. She's entering potentially dangerous territory, and once she does, she can't go back. Either he'll accept what she gives, or he won't, and she'll have to deal with the consequences if it's the latter.
"Steven . . . your gem. I know you have one. I have one too. Right now, I need . . . I have to know if something's wrong with it. It's part of you; it affects you. Please. It's important."
The lines on his skin, the color, the way he's reacting . . . it can only be his gem. And if it is, the situation is desperate.
no subject
Her voice drops, no less anxious or frightened, but for his ears only. "Steven . . . I know things about you. I know you and Greg. I can't tell you how right now, but . . . I can promise you can trust me. I hope you can believe me. I won't -- I can't -- ever hurt you. I never will."
A breath. She's entering potentially dangerous territory, and once she does, she can't go back. Either he'll accept what she gives, or he won't, and she'll have to deal with the consequences if it's the latter.
"Steven . . . your gem. I know you have one. I have one too. Right now, I need . . . I have to know if something's wrong with it. It's part of you; it affects you. Please. It's important."
The lines on his skin, the color, the way he's reacting . . . it can only be his gem. And if it is, the situation is desperate.