02-03-2023, 04:22 AM
The way he sobered up was not lost on her. It spiked her blood with irritation. On one hand, she wanted him to be more calm, because she could not and would never match that energy, but on the other, she didn’t like to think that he’d done it because she refused to be as enthusiastic.
Instead of feeling bad, her brain translated the emotion as irritated. Hooray.
He offered his name. Jacqueline still had no idea of her intentions for this man. “Jacqueline,” she told him, with an easy smile. She’d already picked out an alias to give out, Avril, but she didn’t have anything to hide yet, and especially not from him, as far as she could tell.
She was realizing a recurring theme, a pang in her heart when she was faced with such a sweet wolf: she didn’t want to hurt him, and she knew she would. At least, she felt certain that she would.
It was an odd contrast, because she’d grown up surrounded by self-motivated mongrels at home. Even herself and her siblings were defined by understanding pain, embracing it, and inflicting it on others. Their definition of play was rubbing one-another’s faces into the dirt, not sliding down snowy mountains.
Her face softened. “Lincoln,” she said, “You’re a charming man.”
Nice. How did she do nice? Not diplomatic or manipulative but simply honest, in a way that wouldn’t crush him. “But I’m not sure if my plans are… for you.” Yikes, yeah, that didn’t sound horrible or anything.
“I’m not nice, Lincoln. I never will be.” Normally she wouldn’t be so dramatic, but she hadn’t spoken to anyone in weeks, and this felt like the thing to do. “We shouldn’t travel together.”
Instead of feeling bad, her brain translated the emotion as irritated. Hooray.
He offered his name. Jacqueline still had no idea of her intentions for this man. “Jacqueline,” she told him, with an easy smile. She’d already picked out an alias to give out, Avril, but she didn’t have anything to hide yet, and especially not from him, as far as she could tell.
She was realizing a recurring theme, a pang in her heart when she was faced with such a sweet wolf: she didn’t want to hurt him, and she knew she would. At least, she felt certain that she would.
It was an odd contrast, because she’d grown up surrounded by self-motivated mongrels at home. Even herself and her siblings were defined by understanding pain, embracing it, and inflicting it on others. Their definition of play was rubbing one-another’s faces into the dirt, not sliding down snowy mountains.
Her face softened. “Lincoln,” she said, “You’re a charming man.”
Nice. How did she do nice? Not diplomatic or manipulative but simply honest, in a way that wouldn’t crush him. “But I’m not sure if my plans are… for you.” Yikes, yeah, that didn’t sound horrible or anything.
“I’m not nice, Lincoln. I never will be.” Normally she wouldn’t be so dramatic, but she hadn’t spoken to anyone in weeks, and this felt like the thing to do. “We shouldn’t travel together.”