[ It's odd that now after how many times she's tried to shoo him away, gave him grief for fussing, and came so close to striking him for instructing him to leave, Alice actually finds herself appreciating him. In her right hand, her knife still remained tightly gripped and her left hand flexed. She really never had an urge to reach out to another for any sort of comfort. She will have her mess and after she cleans up she'll be alone again. Strange feelings overcame her in that moment while she stared up at him.
The feeling of loneliness that she tried so desperately to rebuke and the other need to seek out comfort. It had her wondering what would happen if she did take his hand, actually, instead of recoiling at his offered hand like she so often did. Hands descending on her would always hurt her and the slow realization that he had no ill intentions, just an offer of help and comfort. She hid it will, she buried it as she always did. She would not show that "weakness" outwardly and tell him she wants to go, too. She couldn't bare to stay here now, even if she fought so desperately to keep this house.
It hurts and so she would retreat as she always did once she was finally alone by the end of tonight and she knew it. Instead of desperately begging for someone to stop it from happening and her illness to grow worse, Alice remains silent. After a moment of staring up at him, like a feral cat would in the alley, Alice was attempting to pull herself back into her body. As much as she'd like to offer thanks and ask him to delay just a bit more, she just can't find the words or the actions. It's been too long since she felt that way.
Carefully, she walks around him, looking down at her feet. She loathes that he'll leave her side, too. ]
Come back in the morning. [ More than likely, he'll find her in a catatonic state and this night will be barely remembered. ] With her. This won't be here, I promise that. She likes stories, remember? And picture books.... and bundles of blanket. She should sleep well with you -- she hasn't been able to sleep by herself most nights and that's fine.
[ At last, Alice has finally put her knife aside on a side table, wringing her hands as she continues to circle around him. Slowly. ] You need not worry about me, I shall handle this tonight.
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The feeling of loneliness that she tried so desperately to rebuke and the other need to seek out comfort. It had her wondering what would happen if she did take his hand, actually, instead of recoiling at his offered hand like she so often did. Hands descending on her would always hurt her and the slow realization that he had no ill intentions, just an offer of help and comfort. She hid it will, she buried it as she always did. She would not show that "weakness" outwardly and tell him she wants to go, too. She couldn't bare to stay here now, even if she fought so desperately to keep this house.
It hurts and so she would retreat as she always did once she was finally alone by the end of tonight and she knew it. Instead of desperately begging for someone to stop it from happening and her illness to grow worse, Alice remains silent. After a moment of staring up at him, like a feral cat would in the alley, Alice was attempting to pull herself back into her body. As much as she'd like to offer thanks and ask him to delay just a bit more, she just can't find the words or the actions. It's been too long since she felt that way.
Carefully, she walks around him, looking down at her feet. She loathes that he'll leave her side, too. ]
Come back in the morning. [ More than likely, he'll find her in a catatonic state and this night will be barely remembered. ] With her. This won't be here, I promise that. She likes stories, remember? And picture books.... and bundles of blanket. She should sleep well with you -- she hasn't been able to sleep by herself most nights and that's fine.
[ At last, Alice has finally put her knife aside on a side table, wringing her hands as she continues to circle around him. Slowly. ] You need not worry about me, I shall handle this tonight.