The answer doesn't come as a surprise, so she lets him get up and retrieve his phone. At least he's not protesting against eating at all, which is a start. She sees the way his shoulders tense suddenly, the way he pretends to be concentrating on the phone when he looks like he's doing anything but.
She expects him to tell her it was a mistake letting her in, to ask her to leave. She's readying herself for it when he speaks, and the apology takes her by surprise. It's the sort of thing he'd do, she figures, apologising for something that wasn't his fault. The city brought his friend here, opening up old wounds.
In all honesty she doesn't know if it does change anything. She's not sure exactly what he expects it to have changed. She likes him, and she's made that relatively obvious, but every time she makes to get closer he pushes her away. She's of two minds about it. Some days she's stubborn and annoyed enough to want to let him win, to walk away and leave him to it if he's going to keep her at arm's length. Others she wants to do the opposite, wants to keep pressing at him until she finds out what made him this way, how she can help.
Raven's no innocent, and she doesn't know whether that's how he sees her but she's adamant that he shouldn't. She's killed more than her fair share of people, she's watched her friends die, been shot in the back by one of them. The ground made killers of just about all of them, but they still had to find a way to be able to look each other in the eye.
"You don't have to apologise," she says, shaking her head. Apologising doesn't change what happened, it doesn't help Demetrius, and there's no sense in it. It's his history, for better or worse, and she just has to hope he finds a way to reconcile it. "It's not the first body I've seen." The admission of guilt is the more disturbing part, but she has to trust that there's some kind of reasoning behind it, the same way she has to believe that she and all her friends did what they did because they had to.
no subject
She expects him to tell her it was a mistake letting her in, to ask her to leave. She's readying herself for it when he speaks, and the apology takes her by surprise. It's the sort of thing he'd do, she figures, apologising for something that wasn't his fault. The city brought his friend here, opening up old wounds.
In all honesty she doesn't know if it does change anything. She's not sure exactly what he expects it to have changed. She likes him, and she's made that relatively obvious, but every time she makes to get closer he pushes her away. She's of two minds about it. Some days she's stubborn and annoyed enough to want to let him win, to walk away and leave him to it if he's going to keep her at arm's length. Others she wants to do the opposite, wants to keep pressing at him until she finds out what made him this way, how she can help.
Raven's no innocent, and she doesn't know whether that's how he sees her but she's adamant that he shouldn't. She's killed more than her fair share of people, she's watched her friends die, been shot in the back by one of them. The ground made killers of just about all of them, but they still had to find a way to be able to look each other in the eye.
"You don't have to apologise," she says, shaking her head. Apologising doesn't change what happened, it doesn't help Demetrius, and there's no sense in it. It's his history, for better or worse, and she just has to hope he finds a way to reconcile it. "It's not the first body I've seen." The admission of guilt is the more disturbing part, but she has to trust that there's some kind of reasoning behind it, the same way she has to believe that she and all her friends did what they did because they had to.