[He finishes the thought for her, and she should be relieved that he at least understood where she was going with it, and she can sense his compassion underlying his quiet voice, but her body betrays her relief and stiffens, as if waiting for him to say more.
But then he doesn't, and there's that sense of dread that settles within her, and Tifa ducks her gaze away.]
... You're not...
[Tifa loses the words for a moment, her voice getting caught somewhere in her throat that when she speaks again, it's tiny with stressed with worry.]
no subject
But then he doesn't, and there's that sense of dread that settles within her, and Tifa ducks her gaze away.]
... You're not...
[Tifa loses the words for a moment, her voice getting caught somewhere in her throat that when she speaks again, it's tiny with stressed with worry.]
You're not mad, are you...?