[ A choked laugh comes from her at his comment, head tilting to gently rest against him. Her shoulders relax and she simply lets him hold her. One arm leaves the manuscripts pressed against her person to lift and gently wrap her hand around the crook of his arm. Finger tips gently move along the tweed jacket with elbow patches that she's quickly coming to associate with him. Someone trying to look the part of some big shot writer--because he is--but also is just a regular person. She feels a smile form on her lips and she's sure to hide it. Something only for her to know, even if he can hear it in her voice. ]
When it's Hartman's smug face? I can't blame you. [ A finger raises from his arm to gesture to the picture on the wall nearby. It stands out even though the room is dark. She figures they're in Hartman's office, which makes her willing to dig her feet in just a bit more. Just to push it in the therapist's face.
Instead, Jesse rubs her cheek into his shoulder. A small amount, almost like a cat making themselves comfortable in blankets. ] No one has ever said that to me. That I'm "good company."
no subject
When it's Hartman's smug face? I can't blame you. [ A finger raises from his arm to gesture to the picture on the wall nearby. It stands out even though the room is dark. She figures they're in Hartman's office, which makes her willing to dig her feet in just a bit more. Just to push it in the therapist's face.
Instead, Jesse rubs her cheek into his shoulder. A small amount, almost like a cat making themselves comfortable in blankets. ] No one has ever said that to me. That I'm "good company."