[ Being called special isn't new. So often it fell from people's lips when they were fawning over her, to the point where it bounced off of her like the word meant nothing at all. After all, it isn't like she thinks she's anything special. They only saw what she presented to them: a delicate flower all soft without a care in the world.

But hearing the word from Sylvain's lips, she can't help but feel like it means something. Or maybe that's her heart yearning for something she can't have again. ]

So if I'm not like the others, [ If Claude isn't anything like the others - ] and you know how I feel about you and that I won't be disappointed, then what's stopping you from what you want?

[ Her fingers curl into his hair, tugging lightly signaling that he should open his eyes to look at her. If he does, he'll see that her gaze is soft. Pleading. ]

There's nothing to be afraid of.

[ She can no longer tell if she's trying to convince him or convince herself. Maybe it's both even though she knows better than to listen to her own advice. ]