( she'll accept no such apologies. it wears at her in its own way, having to be on amidst so many who light up when they see him, whose attentions naturally drift to the one at his arm— but it's good for her, too. keeps her from slipping too far into herself, reminds her that there's still humanity there tucked within her, that she has something worthwhile to give, when she so often feels as if she doesn't.

he follows her willingly, drawing them together as if it were just another night in a dim hotel room, and there's nothing to stop the way her smile radiates, pearled teeth glimmering while her palm steadies at his side, the opposite outstretched with his just enough to keep the jacket he'd wrapped around her shoulders in place. )

They do. ( an agreeing hum, but there isn't any bitterness there. he was the very crux of them, it wasn't difficult to see. more often the needs they catered to were far more pressing than her own, though there's no denying the closer they get, the more she craves the consistency of him, in any capacity. ) I'll have to start convincing you to stay more often.

( the music sets a lulling pace, something sweet, demanding nothing from them other than to breathe together, step together, be, admiring the way the cold begins to bite rouge into his cheeks. )

We'll consider it a raincheck. ( she stops herself from hushing the gratitudes, the apologies, and merely lets the appreciation linger a moment, following the guide of his steps with a thoughtless ease. ) Sooner or later I'll have to answer the calls. ( he's seen them riddling her home screen— sam, usually, natasha at times, checking in on her. )

It'll be easier, if you're there.