[He catches her before she can even make contact. Aside from the few times that Garnet has hugged her, or perhaps, held her hand in times of fear, uncertainty, and doubt, Beatrix can't remember the last time anyone has ever touched her. A spar, she decides easily enough, doesn't count. In Alexandria, it's too brazen for anyone to do such a thing. Chances are, Beatrix would run through most anyone who actually made the attempt.
His hold, however, it meticulous and careful. Almost tender. Her hand tenses for so moments, the flood of uncertainty coursing along her. His words are ones that she hears plainly, as quiet as they are, resting just above the very prominent thump of her pulse.
She colours and heat spreads right over her and for those several breaths as she pieces together what exactly has happened, she can only stare at him. What is that feeling? The one that compels her to draw back so completely that she might never show herself again? Realisation, she thinks. Eustace's words in her head. Zidane's.]
Let... Let me go.
[The words almost don't drop out of her at all. She knew better all along. It was only the heated response to protect herself. From him, of all things. Just as she does with everyone else.]
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His hold, however, it meticulous and careful. Almost tender. Her hand tenses for so moments, the flood of uncertainty coursing along her. His words are ones that she hears plainly, as quiet as they are, resting just above the very prominent thump of her pulse.
She colours and heat spreads right over her and for those several breaths as she pieces together what exactly has happened, she can only stare at him. What is that feeling? The one that compels her to draw back so completely that she might never show herself again? Realisation, she thinks. Eustace's words in her head. Zidane's.]
Let... Let me go.
[The words almost don't drop out of her at all. She knew better all along. It was only the heated response to protect herself. From him, of all things. Just as she does with everyone else.]