smile falters, brow crinkling with a sort of dumb shock/ confusion, the expectance that she’d feel her heart thudding at the last thing she’d thought he would ask her failing to occur & she’s instead met with that rumored nothingness. fingers fall from their feather - light grip on tristan’s cheek to rest on the curve where shoulder & neck meet. answer, after inquiry is fully registered, comes immediately :denial expressed in a question of her own. ❛ –––– why would i do that? ❜
