[ The pout on her face is immediate, mingled with a flash of hurt in her expression that she isn't entirely aware of. Not that she has any real reason to. Rational Hilda would know that she's not being rejected, but the middling effects of the alcohol hadn't helped matters. Thankfully it makes it just as easy to brush aside the sliver of hurt in exchange for more of a pout.
She twists her wrists out his grasp with the grace of someone who had been taught how before both hands cling onto his shirt. ]
No, please? There's so much room. [ There's a brief pause as her eyes search his. ] And I miss you.
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She twists her wrists out his grasp with the grace of someone who had been taught how before both hands cling onto his shirt. ]
No, please? There's so much room. [ There's a brief pause as her eyes search his. ] And I miss you.