[Her ankle rolls, the fragile joint rotating in his palm. Anakin knows on the first tensing of her calf that she's gauging his strength, searching for the seam between fingers and thumb. And coming up empty.
The air itself changes, and so does Jill's expression. This is what makes her so different from Toko, there's a transparency to the great swing of her dramatics. There's no filter it's running through, no editor trying to scribble out evidence and present the right final draft. Her lip curls, a flash of teeth, and Jill recoils on the legs of her chair- as far as the tether of his grip will allow.
But being confronted by her now is different than it was before. He can't separate Toko and Jill into their own categories, to take one without the other. And it's a realization he's only just now beginning to accept. It's imperfect. And so is he. The fairness feels right.
The chair's legs come back down like a crack of thunder; the cups wobble again, cream puffs tumble across the surface, a whole strawberry rolls towards him. If Jill is a storm, the only thing to do is weather her. And he can do that.]
Really? [It isn't sarcastic, but the opener doesn't hide his skepticism either. With his opposite hand Anakin reaches for the pot of tea and begins pouring her a cup.] How would you define love?
just wait till the end of rots like everyone else!!
The air itself changes, and so does Jill's expression. This is what makes her so different from Toko, there's a transparency to the great swing of her dramatics. There's no filter it's running through, no editor trying to scribble out evidence and present the right final draft. Her lip curls, a flash of teeth, and Jill recoils on the legs of her chair- as far as the tether of his grip will allow.
But being confronted by her now is different than it was before. He can't separate Toko and Jill into their own categories, to take one without the other. And it's a realization he's only just now beginning to accept. It's imperfect. And so is he. The fairness feels right.
The chair's legs come back down like a crack of thunder; the cups wobble again, cream puffs tumble across the surface, a whole strawberry rolls towards him. If Jill is a storm, the only thing to do is weather her. And he can do that.]
Really? [It isn't sarcastic, but the opener doesn't hide his skepticism either. With his opposite hand Anakin reaches for the pot of tea and begins pouring her a cup.] How would you define love?