[Ah, well. Wrong move, she guesses. She'd put her fingers in his hair if she could. As is, her soul goes still and rests beside his, listens to the beat of his heart inside the body they're sharing.]

[She's not sorry, so she doesn't say she is; but she feels that he doesn't like it, so she doesn't do it again. Simple as that.]

I don't want to ask you anything. You can say whatever you wanna say when you want to say it. We just missed you.

[. . . Hm.]

And we're pissed somebody hurt you this bad.

[You're mine, right? Nobody should hurt you but me.]