He was getting too close.

And she was letting him.

Emma's eyes narrow, forehead creasing just slightly anytime she meets his gaze.

It is eerily quiet now outside of the clink of silverware and the crunch of teeth on toast. It almost echoes given the houses size and lack of furnishings.

Slowly but surely, though, it was starting to feel like home.

THEO BECKETT

[attr="class","beck"]it's silent through dinner apart from the occasional sounds. he doesn't feel the need to speak, to fill the void between them, because the silence is comforting.

her presence is comforting.

he waits until she's done before reaching for her plate. he stands, walking over to the sink to start cleaning.

[attr="class","noodles"]Emma Wolfe

It's too comforting.

It's too familiar, too real, too easy.

Too easy to keep expecting him to be watching her, in return.

For once, she doesn't just disappear.

Instead she rises at the same time he picks up her plate. Her wine is abandoned and the tightness in her chest feels suffocating.

Yer running, ace.

Yes, she is. And from her own home, too.

"I am heading out.. for a bit. Don't wait up."

The broken front door is forgotten, as are the dishes and the fact this is her house, not his.

She may be changing, but some things haven't.

THEO BECKETT

[attr="class","beck"]"sure."

whatever plagues her is lost on him at the moment; alcohol and the moment likely clouding his insight. or maybe he's choosing not to look too far beyond what's on the surface. either way, he stays put and continues cleaning up.

it takes him late into the night before he finally leaves. the kitchen's clean, the door's fixed, and her skrelp's fed.

even if a part of him wants to, he doesn't wait for her to return.

[attr="class","noodles"]Emma Wolfe