Perhaps it's the company I'm keeping. [ Perhaps, he thinks, he'd rather make it his new life's work to never have to lie to her, and wouldn't that be something? He swallows and his fingers drift down the side of her neck before his hand settles there, feeling her pulse below his fingertips, thriving in that.

They're alive, whether or not they deserve it, and some greedy part of him that's wholly concerned with her is thankful. He can take that, he thinks, and run with it. ]

It won't be forever, but I can't push to get back out there if I can't even run.