[ Claude immediately opens his mouth to ask if she's sure because it certainly was last time, and then thinks better of it and issues a tsk by clicking his tongue. Not worth it, he has to remind himself; it won't feel better to point that out. Silence is so rarely his default, but given how it feels like any step he might take is like being in range of a ballista? It's the better option.
When Hilda steps up and makes the requisite motion to be expected, there's a second of hesitation from him. That flutter from earlier in their accidental brushing of fingers comes back to mind - if something so small could cause it, what will holding onto her hand do? He's about to find out since that's what he does. The answers is it tugs on all those intricately bittersweet threads laced through everything, and most of all: it hurts that it still feels like her hand is meant to be in his.
It's distracting, but not enough so that he doesn't hear the sudden sound of splintering beneath them. There's no time to look to find out which it is because next the mostly level platform of boxes they're standing on becomes considerably less so by the second. Claude lets go of her hand to on instinct wrap an arm around her waist to pull her closer in reflexes he doesn't question and to lean back against the wall in hopes that - if they're lucky - maybe they'll just have a slow slide to the ground when the planks underneath their feet crack entirely. ]
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When Hilda steps up and makes the requisite motion to be expected, there's a second of hesitation from him. That flutter from earlier in their accidental brushing of fingers comes back to mind - if something so small could cause it, what will holding onto her hand do? He's about to find out since that's what he does. The answers is it tugs on all those intricately bittersweet threads laced through everything, and most of all: it hurts that it still feels like her hand is meant to be in his.
It's distracting, but not enough so that he doesn't hear the sudden sound of splintering beneath them. There's no time to look to find out which it is because next the mostly level platform of boxes they're standing on becomes considerably less so by the second. Claude lets go of her hand to on instinct wrap an arm around her waist to pull her closer in reflexes he doesn't question and to lean back against the wall in hopes that - if they're lucky - maybe they'll just have a slow slide to the ground when the planks underneath their feet crack entirely. ]