[He looks almost offended -- no, that's not the right word, because it's not offense on his face, but something very like hurt, something somewhat similar to her own expression, truthfully -- that she'd even suggest that he didn't. All the same, he can see why she's asking: a guy getting a woman in a position like this, having the audacity to be so forward with her in a relatively public place, then taking her back to a secluded hotel room... of course it would seem as though the only thing he wanted was her body, and that he'd say anything to get it.]
'n y'know, if I just wanted...
[Well, he doesn't really need to finish that sentence. He doesn't want to make reference to anyone else, at the moment, and he doesn't particularly need to say that if the only thing he'd wanted was someone to fulfill some fleeting lust with, it would be perfectly easy to find plenty of willing women at Babette's. It would sound too much like bragging, and there's no reason to call up the spectre of other prospects simply to convince her that he'd been honest in saying he could love her. It would cheapen it, somehow.
It's one of those rare, rare times when he knows how to hold his tongue.]
I do think I could love you. I think it'd be awfully easy.
[It's a conscious effort not to swear around her, it really is, not to say what he really wants to say, which is that it'd be so goddamned easy for him to fall in love with her that he's half-convinced he's doing it already, but he remembers how she'd responded to that kind of language, and so he tries to hold himself back from letting it out. It's harder than it should be.
The fact that she's stepping closer is reassuring. That means he can wrap an arm around her again, doesn't it? That means he can pull her close for another kiss, a slow one, testing the waters more than anything else, finding out if she'll rebuff him now, after all of this confusion, after she realized that they might not be on the same page at all.]
no subject
[He looks almost offended -- no, that's not the right word, because it's not offense on his face, but something very like hurt, something somewhat similar to her own expression, truthfully -- that she'd even suggest that he didn't. All the same, he can see why she's asking: a guy getting a woman in a position like this, having the audacity to be so forward with her in a relatively public place, then taking her back to a secluded hotel room... of course it would seem as though the only thing he wanted was her body, and that he'd say anything to get it.]
'n y'know, if I just wanted...
[Well, he doesn't really need to finish that sentence. He doesn't want to make reference to anyone else, at the moment, and he doesn't particularly need to say that if the only thing he'd wanted was someone to fulfill some fleeting lust with, it would be perfectly easy to find plenty of willing women at Babette's. It would sound too much like bragging, and there's no reason to call up the spectre of other prospects simply to convince her that he'd been honest in saying he could love her. It would cheapen it, somehow.
It's one of those rare, rare times when he knows how to hold his tongue.]
I do think I could love you. I think it'd be awfully easy.
[It's a conscious effort not to swear around her, it really is, not to say what he really wants to say, which is that it'd be so goddamned easy for him to fall in love with her that he's half-convinced he's doing it already, but he remembers how she'd responded to that kind of language, and so he tries to hold himself back from letting it out. It's harder than it should be.
The fact that she's stepping closer is reassuring. That means he can wrap an arm around her again, doesn't it? That means he can pull her close for another kiss, a slow one, testing the waters more than anything else, finding out if she'll rebuff him now, after all of this confusion, after she realized that they might not be on the same page at all.]