[ Hilda's realization is belated on...everything. Several seconds tick by before her eyes widen when she realizes the proximity of their faces along with the feeling of being in his arms like that, and she's quick to try and right herself. Unfortunately losing mild feeling to her elbows makes that more of a difficult task than expected. Determined to put space between them she pushes through, so focused on trying to right herself even with tremoring arms.
It's only when Claude cuts himself off that she comes to her next realization. Her eyes dart from him to the surrounding items as a stark horror dawns on her. The box. There's a sharp intake of breath from her, heat rising to her cheeks building off the lingering heat from before. Hilda breaks her gaze away from the box and back towards him.
She's always been able to read his expressions, but she can't read the flicker of something in his face now. Time has caused a rift that feels like it's distorted her vision of a face that she knew as well as her own. The brief second flash of something unreadable on his face can't be hurt. Why would it be? It can't be because if it were, then the constriction of her chest and the heat on her cheeks that's quickly making its way down to her neck would be shame. And why should she be ashamed of removing something that reminded her of him?
But Claude doesn't say anything, the moment passes, and she's left swallowing a strange lump in her throat. Her eyes stay trained on Claude's back, torn between apologizing and saying nothing at all. The quiet clinking of objects fills the air like a clock ticking down as her window of opportunity to apologize begins to close. Her body seems to move automatically, fingers numbly taking a hold of the jewelry box. Absently they run over the dent in the box.
Her voice is astoundingly steady but only because her voice is quiet. ]
I guess the foundation of the wood wasn't strong enough. We should have checked more closely. [ Clearing her throat, she goes in search of a different box for her jewelry box leaving the other cardboard box on the floor. ] There's other ones over here that will probably be fine.
no subject
It's only when Claude cuts himself off that she comes to her next realization. Her eyes dart from him to the surrounding items as a stark horror dawns on her. The box. There's a sharp intake of breath from her, heat rising to her cheeks building off the lingering heat from before. Hilda breaks her gaze away from the box and back towards him.
She's always been able to read his expressions, but she can't read the flicker of something in his face now. Time has caused a rift that feels like it's distorted her vision of a face that she knew as well as her own. The brief second flash of something unreadable on his face can't be hurt. Why would it be? It can't be because if it were, then the constriction of her chest and the heat on her cheeks that's quickly making its way down to her neck would be shame. And why should she be ashamed of removing something that reminded her of him?
But Claude doesn't say anything, the moment passes, and she's left swallowing a strange lump in her throat. Her eyes stay trained on Claude's back, torn between apologizing and saying nothing at all. The quiet clinking of objects fills the air like a clock ticking down as her window of opportunity to apologize begins to close. Her body seems to move automatically, fingers numbly taking a hold of the jewelry box. Absently they run over the dent in the box.
Her voice is astoundingly steady but only because her voice is quiet. ]
I guess the foundation of the wood wasn't strong enough. We should have checked more closely. [ Clearing her throat, she goes in search of a different box for her jewelry box leaving the other cardboard box on the floor. ] There's other ones over here that will probably be fine.