Of course that's not what I want to hear. [He turns back to her, and the lines aren't only drawn in the sand: they're on his face, signs of weariness and years brought on too soon, signs of too much stress for much too long. He can't even be thirty yet, but the hair at his temples is turning gray, and he looks so tired for all the fire still in his eyes.
He knows what he wants to hear, but he also knows now that it wouldn't be enough even if she did say it. Look at the others: Dean has gotten almost all the answers right, Barbara has gotten them all right, and he still can't trust them, or himself with them. How could he with her?
He shakes his head and retreats, goes to pour himself a drink, trying to lock it down -- his feeling for her, all that camaraderie and affection. She's not Dee, and even Dee betrayed him in Silent Hill.] You don't have to say anything else.
[Spam]
He knows what he wants to hear, but he also knows now that it wouldn't be enough even if she did say it. Look at the others: Dean has gotten almost all the answers right, Barbara has gotten them all right, and he still can't trust them, or himself with them. How could he with her?
He shakes his head and retreats, goes to pour himself a drink, trying to lock it down -- his feeling for her, all that camaraderie and affection. She's not Dee, and even Dee betrayed him in Silent Hill.] You don't have to say anything else.