[ He straightens up quickly when he feels her dashing up to him and all but throwing her arms around him, one hand bunching itself into his shirt and the other one threading into his hair. ]
Jesse- Jesse, I'm sorry. I'm- I'm sorry. [ He's sorry for what he made her do, for all the energy she had to expend to get him here. He's sorry for always hurting her, for putting her in positions where she has to hurt herself to help him.
She burrows her face into him as she's done before, and he's quick to put his arm around her to draw her in even more than she already is. He had something he wanted to say to her when he was still in the Writer's Room, but now it seems as though all powers of speech have left him.
His head lowers and he just stands still with his arms around her, holding her silently and letting the quiet of the Motel wash over him. It's calmer here, almost peaceful, and there's none of the deafening silent terror that characterizes the Writer's Room. He could stay like this for a long time, but he knows he doesn't have a long time. That just means he needs to make this last for as long as he can.
One hand leaves where it was resting against her back and moves to touch her red locks, rubbing the strands carefully between his fingers as he tries to think about what he should say... what he should do. ]
no subject
Jesse- Jesse, I'm sorry. I'm- I'm sorry. [ He's sorry for what he made her do, for all the energy she had to expend to get him here. He's sorry for always hurting her, for putting her in positions where she has to hurt herself to help him.
She burrows her face into him as she's done before, and he's quick to put his arm around her to draw her in even more than she already is. He had something he wanted to say to her when he was still in the Writer's Room, but now it seems as though all powers of speech have left him.
His head lowers and he just stands still with his arms around her, holding her silently and letting the quiet of the Motel wash over him. It's calmer here, almost peaceful, and there's none of the deafening silent terror that characterizes the Writer's Room. He could stay like this for a long time, but he knows he doesn't have a long time. That just means he needs to make this last for as long as he can.
One hand leaves where it was resting against her back and moves to touch her red locks, rubbing the strands carefully between his fingers as he tries to think about what he should say... what he should do. ]