Scott is getting his keys out of his pocket, "Emily." Is warned tenderly, "he's not the same," he's shaking his head when suddenly she's racing past him and he knows what she's about to do. "Dont!" But it's too late; the door is open and he sort of just stands there, off to one side, keys in hand. Would he lash out? Would he snap at her? Yell? Pound his fists against the dash? "Emily, don't do-"
------>>
Morag is taking a breath in the car, his fists balled and pressed against his sweats - he isn't in jeans, forced to wear loungewear. And suddenly the door is opened, should have locked it. is thought belatedly, eyes twitching to and fro uselessly. And she's shouting at him; yelling about how it's not his decision to pull away. Not his decision to not push himself into her presence like a needy dog.
He swallows, "Emily you don't understand-" He cuts himself off, feeling her hands move, not understanding what it is that she's about to do. And then he knows. "Please-" it's too late. She can see ~
Morag pants his anxieties, feeling his pulse racing and then she's kissing his forhead. "I... dont..." He doesn't know how to explain. Doesn't know where to start. Did she see the scars, vividly pink against his tan - or are they still wounds, deep brown insomuch that he is too pale? Can she tell that his eyes don't focus? That he doesn't see? Slowly his hand reaches up, shaking as he takes hers. "Emily...i.."