Probably he can hear her small catch of breath. Her fingers tighten on his arm -- not hard, not hurting, but punctuating, tensed.
She doesn't need to ask who they are.
The next words still come softly, but flurried, as though her mind is racing and she's trying to fit in as many as she can. "Come with me. Come with me, please. You can't be here. Especially not like this. You need to come somewhere safe; we'll find a way to fix your gem. It's important."
She shouldn't be doing this. Not at all. Very possibly it will turn him off, make him afraid. Potentially it even compromises the mission. But knowing about his gem . . . she can't leave him, no matter the consequences. She'll face anything for that.
no subject
She doesn't need to ask who they are.
The next words still come softly, but flurried, as though her mind is racing and she's trying to fit in as many as she can. "Come with me. Come with me, please. You can't be here. Especially not like this. You need to come somewhere safe; we'll find a way to fix your gem. It's important."
She shouldn't be doing this. Not at all. Very possibly it will turn him off, make him afraid. Potentially it even compromises the mission. But knowing about his gem . . . she can't leave him, no matter the consequences. She'll face anything for that.