[ Carlos knows her well enough to not believe what she's saying about being alright. She knows that something is about to happen, whatever it may be. Personal and intimate, whatever it might be -- whatever she knows it might be. It's obviously about their relationship, but Jill is figuring that it's about guilt and about loss (or perceived loss) when she was declared MIA then KIA.
Part of her can't fathom that he'd love her, that he'd be in love with her. Maybe she won't let herself think and feel these things, maybe it's too hard to deal with. It's a fear that she can't quite pinpoint or gather up in her arms and examine, something she's afraid of learning because what if? What if it changes things between them, what if it changes things in general, that it can't be just the way it was any longer?
She looks at him for a moment longer than she should, examining him the same way he seems to be doing to her -- Jill doesn't really notice, though, because she's too busy doing the same. He looks less put-together than she remembers, although he probably does put effort into his hair it's just not... that soft, smooth look he sported in the past. And he has facial hair. It's a little weird to her, but only because he doesn't quite meet the standard of her memory and she's struggling to overlap now to then.
Jill is about to usher him in, but he goes to touch her. While Jill doesn't flinch, she does stiffen slightly and swallows hard enough that it might be visible. She lets him touch her, still, and takes one step closer just to make sure her subtle responses aren't what he judges her on. ]
Ghosts.
[ She says, her voice at least the one thing that's the same about her. His, too, sounds the same. Once his hand has been removed, though, she does invite him in and shuffles backward to make room for him to enter. Once he does, she shuts the door for him and locks it, indicating that she feels he might be here a while, not just for a single conversation. She looks behind her like someone else is here, toward the kitchen. ]
Um, can I get you anything? Water? Coffee? ...something stronger?
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Part of her can't fathom that he'd love her, that he'd be in love with her. Maybe she won't let herself think and feel these things, maybe it's too hard to deal with. It's a fear that she can't quite pinpoint or gather up in her arms and examine, something she's afraid of learning because what if? What if it changes things between them, what if it changes things in general, that it can't be just the way it was any longer?
She looks at him for a moment longer than she should, examining him the same way he seems to be doing to her -- Jill doesn't really notice, though, because she's too busy doing the same. He looks less put-together than she remembers, although he probably does put effort into his hair it's just not... that soft, smooth look he sported in the past. And he has facial hair. It's a little weird to her, but only because he doesn't quite meet the standard of her memory and she's struggling to overlap now to then.
Jill is about to usher him in, but he goes to touch her. While Jill doesn't flinch, she does stiffen slightly and swallows hard enough that it might be visible. She lets him touch her, still, and takes one step closer just to make sure her subtle responses aren't what he judges her on. ]
Ghosts.
[ She says, her voice at least the one thing that's the same about her. His, too, sounds the same. Once his hand has been removed, though, she does invite him in and shuffles backward to make room for him to enter. Once he does, she shuts the door for him and locks it, indicating that she feels he might be here a while, not just for a single conversation. She looks behind her like someone else is here, toward the kitchen. ]
Um, can I get you anything? Water? Coffee? ...something stronger?