That gives him pause. Oh, sweet girl, does she think he's upset with her? He sets the cups down on the bedstand and runs his fingers over her lovely cheek.
"I'm embarrassed." He admits this much, so she knows it's not her. "I'm so used to keeping secrets I turned you both into secrets from each other for no reason at all. I should have introduced you the moment I realised I wanted to keep you."
He keeps talking as he fetches the pyjamas, neatly folded away.
"It's a little difficult between us - I remember 2030, he remembers 2019. To me, he's my dearest friend, who I no longer speak to as often as our lives have gone down different paths. To him, I'm the traitor he was going to kill in two months to punish for the death of the girl he loved. We're finding a common ground slowly; I don't think he considers me a friend just yet, but we're once again allies."
And as usual to her goes the satin maroon top, far too large on her, and for him are the now perfectly fitted bottoms. He sits on the bed to undress himself, laying out each item of clothing neatly.
"He is exactly how you describe him, under that pain. Tender, large-hearted, sincere, far too fond of cats, dignified despite my father's oppressive regime attempting to grind away the shreds of his people's dignity. I even arranged his circumstances to set him up with my little sister after I died, but their tender friendship never blossomed into anything further. He would have been good for her. He'd be good for you, better than me."
no subject
"I'm embarrassed." He admits this much, so she knows it's not her. "I'm so used to keeping secrets I turned you both into secrets from each other for no reason at all. I should have introduced you the moment I realised I wanted to keep you."
He keeps talking as he fetches the pyjamas, neatly folded away.
"It's a little difficult between us - I remember 2030, he remembers 2019. To me, he's my dearest friend, who I no longer speak to as often as our lives have gone down different paths. To him, I'm the traitor he was going to kill in two months to punish for the death of the girl he loved. We're finding a common ground slowly; I don't think he considers me a friend just yet, but we're once again allies."
And as usual to her goes the satin maroon top, far too large on her, and for him are the now perfectly fitted bottoms. He sits on the bed to undress himself, laying out each item of clothing neatly.
"He is exactly how you describe him, under that pain. Tender, large-hearted, sincere, far too fond of cats, dignified despite my father's oppressive regime attempting to grind away the shreds of his people's dignity. I even arranged his circumstances to set him up with my little sister after I died, but their tender friendship never blossomed into anything further. He would have been good for her. He'd be good for you, better than me."