[She might rid herself of it just to be contrary if she thought it was solely for his sake. She isn't a bleeding heart and she's most certainly not about to suffer solely to soothe a man she's known less than half a year.
But . . . for me, he asks, and yes, she'd meant precisely what she'd said. For him, because she might not know him well, but she knows enough. She knows she's never met anyone like him before; she knows that they're more alike than either of them want to admit.
Immortal and inhuman, something corrupted from humanity and looked at with a distrustful eye; something eager to destroy the world, for no other reason than the world had hurt them. Something different, even here, where supposedly all differences are to be wiped clean. Oh, yes, they're alike, and despite herself, despite her constant irritation with him, Rosalind feels something akin to kinship with him.
Her husband. God. For all they'd banked on gaining one another's powers, she suspects neither of them were prepared for this.]
no subject
[She might rid herself of it just to be contrary if she thought it was solely for his sake. She isn't a bleeding heart and she's most certainly not about to suffer solely to soothe a man she's known less than half a year.
But . . . for me, he asks, and yes, she'd meant precisely what she'd said. For him, because she might not know him well, but she knows enough. She knows she's never met anyone like him before; she knows that they're more alike than either of them want to admit.
Immortal and inhuman, something corrupted from humanity and looked at with a distrustful eye; something eager to destroy the world, for no other reason than the world had hurt them. Something different, even here, where supposedly all differences are to be wiped clean. Oh, yes, they're alike, and despite herself, despite her constant irritation with him, Rosalind feels something akin to kinship with him.
Her husband. God. For all they'd banked on gaining one another's powers, she suspects neither of them were prepared for this.]
. . . for you. Is that so impossible to believe?