He shrugs, faint, looking away. "Been putting together everything we've learned about her this past year, I ––"
But before he can finish, or blink, or know what's happening, Audrey is pressed against him, warm body against his chest. Soft against him. Arms around his neck. An avalanche of sensation that sends him stuttering, unable to do anything more than shift to keep from stepping back under her sudden weight, the nerves that are suddenly lighting into life. "I, uh..."
Bound and determined to finish this thought, even as his arms go around her waist, even as his mouth goes stupid and smiling. Because he did it right. This. This thing that she needed. He could do that for her. "Photos from the Glendowers––"
He doesn't even know what's he's saying anymore, tugged down into her. He can feel her cheek against his neck. Can imagine the way his heart leaps gladly to beat as close to hers as possible. "People who remembered her, I, I hired a P.I. in Portland..."
It's gibberish. None of it matters. None of the work or the worry. Nothing except Audrey's face, as she finally pulls away from him. The disbelief and the hope. Scattered across a woman who has never been anything but self-contained.
If he could feel his smile, he thinks it would probably seem that his face was about to split right open.
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rosecarmine
(no subject)
Date: 2018-06-29 01:13 am (UTC)But before he can finish, or blink, or know what's happening, Audrey is pressed against him, warm body against his chest. Soft against him. Arms around his neck. An avalanche of sensation that sends him stuttering, unable to do anything more than shift to keep from stepping back under her sudden weight, the nerves that are suddenly lighting into life. "I, uh..."
Bound and determined to finish this thought, even as his arms go around her waist, even as his mouth goes stupid and smiling. Because he did it right. This. This thing that she needed. He could do that for her. "Photos from the Glendowers––"
He doesn't even know what's he's saying anymore, tugged down into her. He can feel her cheek against his neck. Can imagine the way his heart leaps gladly to beat as close to hers as possible. "People who remembered her, I, I hired a P.I. in Portland..."
It's gibberish. None of it matters. None of the work or the worry. Nothing except Audrey's face, as she finally pulls away from him. The disbelief and the hope. Scattered across a woman who has never been anything but self-contained.
If he could feel his smile, he thinks it would probably seem that his face was about to split right open.