Mari's chest tightens at the words and at the contact, yet her head is oddly blank. What does she do now...? This doesn't feel like a rejection, but is it acceptance? Kanan is kind, after all. She'd want to make this gentle. But--...
Mari fiddles with her hands, the pad of one thumb tracing the other's cuticle in a meaningless loop. Her palms are clammy, and cold. ]
Thank you. I'm sorry, too. For getting mad.
[ She doesn't know how to ask what she wants to ask. With a slight tilt of her head, she searches what she can of Kanan's expression, and quietly tries: ] So... okay?
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Mari's chest tightens at the words and at the contact, yet her head is oddly blank. What does she do now...? This doesn't feel like a rejection, but is it acceptance? Kanan is kind, after all. She'd want to make this gentle. But--...
Mari fiddles with her hands, the pad of one thumb tracing the other's cuticle in a meaningless loop. Her palms are clammy, and cold. ]
Thank you. I'm sorry, too. For getting mad.
[ She doesn't know how to ask what she wants to ask. With a slight tilt of her head, she searches what she can of Kanan's expression, and quietly tries: ] So... okay?