[ Sylvain's answer is enough to cause her to shift in his arms, untangling their fingers. To face him head on in a way that she may not have the courage to do had she not tried to outpace an imaginary Raphael at the Sarstina. The alcohol in her fuels an already existing desire to have him see that he deserves the world. To convince him that he deserves to be cared for in the way that he extends care to those around him. But how is the question.

Some might say that it's easier for her to quietly and doggedly continue to show him. That over time, she could show him that even if he never cared for her the way he clearly yearned for Claude. But that felt like too much effort and required more patience than drunk Hilda is willing to give at that moment. So if she didn't take the slow and steady route, what did that leave? Brute force?

But that was a terrifying thought too. It also required her to be brave, to bare her own truth too. That felt like a lot from someone who thought she was a coward. But how much more bravery did she need to expend tonight? Did that matter when she had already said as much in the bathroom? ]

That isn't an answer either. What you want does matter. You matter, Sylvain. [ Pink eyes look earnestly, fiercely into amber ones. Her hands find the place over his heart again, curling over his chest as a quiet reminder about what she had admitted earlier. That she wanted him. All of him. ] And I'm saying that as someone who cares for you. Whether that's me or Claude or whoever or whatever - what you want matters.