[His hand moves to touch hers and she realises that she needs it more than she would have thought. That is, she wouldn’t have thought herself to need it at all. The reassurance in his words has been fine. She’d thought she would be satisfied with just that. Rather, that she had no right to want anything more of him. In the end, Beatrix has not developed expectations of him, finding it a touch unfair to do so. He can treat her as fleeting as he wishes.

…It matters not to her. Or so she might outwardly claim.

But when she thinks about how it feels for his thumb to dust across the back of her hand, she shifts. In the moments that follow, she covers his hand with one of her other hands and she simply eyes him. He genuinely believes that. That she’s courageous. Facing things knowing that they will likely not end well for her.]

I can let you be the optimist betwixt us. For this situation, that is. I imagine I would play such a role if our positions were reversed.

[In truth, she did. Multiple times for him. Even when she made her own discoveries of him, she wanted to support him. She didn’t want him to berate himself. To think horrid things of himself. When she looks back on it now, she wouldn’t do anything to change that. It was the right thing to do.]