[ It seems a little excessive to him to offer back an Sure, but he does so anyway before setting of.
And true to his word he arrives within an hour making good time because of how little traffic there is (and because he might have driven a little faster than the posted speed limit as per usual). ]
[ Lottie is true to her word when she says she'll be out there, even if it's five minutes later than she promised. Why? She's trying to walk as carefully as she can with two cups of coffee in hand from her front door, a pretty (as pretty the selection can be here, is) bag tucked in her elbow. ]
Excited much?
[ Not as much as she is, buzzing to give him his gift. She takes a sip of one cup (iced, cold with condensation), lets the other warm her hand, untouched. ]
[ He could definitely acknowledge it. She's actually kind of peeved he hadn't already but that's fine— Cassian is allowed to play demure and mindful, so she shakes the cup. ]
I was craving some coffee and figured I'd get you something, out of the kindness of my heart.
[ She smiles, all sparkly, as she adjusts some things to hand it over. Watching (with those big old eyes) him to see his reaction, if she got the kind of caf he'd like right. ]
The surprise is actually in the bag. Needed something to hide it from you.
[ And though his tone remains as dry as ever the smile he gives her doesn't match. Nor is it the typical ghost of a smile that he's so used to giving like the effort is simply too much for someone as tired as he is. Rather, there's warmth there. Nothing quite as sparkly as hers, of course, but warm nonetheless as he reaches for the warm cup, relishing the warmth that begins to seep into his skin.
How he takes his caf isn't technically that difficult to guess if you look at him: black, no sugar. So often it's the easiest and simplest thin to prepare when you have little time. From across the rim of his cup the corners of his eyes crinkle teasingly. ]
[ She was totally fretting about actually needing a reason, but Lottie decided to try and not worry too much. Which— is kind of hard for someone as antsy as herself but it gets easier, seeing his reaction. The dry but warm way he speaks, familiar enough that she's relaxing already (his smile, too— accomplishment soars through her).
Happy she's played it cool, happy he's enjoying the very dark, very black, coffee. From across the rim of her own cup, she raises her brows playfully. ]
I can go back upstairs if you want me to find one.
[ But perhaps it goes unsaid and from his surprise from earlier that he hadn't been expecting it. Not that he didn't think her incapable of care; he knew she did, in her own Lottie-way. If she didn't, she probably would have made herself scarce after the state they'd been in after ridding themselves of their hitchhikers.
That she keeps showing up speaks volumes to him. Which is why the longer he stands here with the coffee in his hand it occurs to him that his heart is warmed by the fact that she's gone through all this effort. Amusement continues to pepper his voice. ]
I wouldn't make you walk back up the stairs just for that.
[ It's cheeky, the soft squint of her eyes at him, like she doesn't quite believe those words. Goes hmmm as she sips at her too creamy coffee and lets it go because yeah, he wouldn't. She wouldn't even try and do it for the bit, either, historically a little too lazy to commit to a joke like that.
But she did commit to the present— which is something she hands over to him. There's a good chunk of paper filling (lavender in shade) to hide what's inside: a mini paper moon lantern. Reminiscent of the ones throughout street windows and inside cars. Along lampposts and inside the windows of even the rooms behind them. It's clearly handmade— another Lottie-ism in that she could've stole one but didn't want to seem cheap.
Or worse, like she didn't care. Which is why he even sped over here for the most vague gift in the world at her simple demand makes her feel just as giddy as she does bashful, offering it. It feels all worth it, in a way. ]
I mean, I thought about making you walk upstairs to get that, but then I was like, it wouldn't even make a lot of sense if I said I'd meet you down here, anyway, so..
[ This dynamic between them, whatever it is, isn't entirely new. Interactions between them aren't always ridiculous or completely dire. Some of them have been like this, lighthearted, fun. But there's also something else strangely different about this. As if there were some connection that hadn't been there before.
It's probably a trick of the imagination. The novelty of Lottie doing something like this for the first time simply because she wanted to. ]
You've done odder things.
[ But even that is said with a lighthearted humour because there had been that silent acknowledgement from earlier. With the present in hand he gives her one final look of confirmation before placing his coffee on the hood of his car so he can properly open the gift.
He really doesn't know what to expect. And he very much doesn't expect this delicate lantern that emerges from the tissue paper. That it's handmade makes the lantern even more precious. After what seems like an eternity he looks up from the lantern towards her, eyes soft and filled with a genuine appreciation. His voice is suddenly quiet taking on that same quality that exudes from him. ]
Lottie - thank you.
[ A part of him suddenly has the urge to reach over to briefly touch her in some way, her cheek, her wrist, her hand, to really show how much he appreciates the effort and time that she went into making this. But he doesn't, locked in place instead. ]
[ She has. Historically. And history will always repeat itself, especially with a chronic overthinker like Lottie Person. But the joy of this moment, seeing him glance up to her before unwrapping her little gift is that this is entirely new. Something being written down in the big, big, vault of her brain as something fond to look back on.
He really doesn't know what to expect and in a way, she doesn't either. Lottie's scared he might think it childish or lame but what she sees reminds her that Cassian is, in a way, always beating her expectations. The way he looks at her makes her stomach flip and it's probably her imagination, how different this all feels. Like there's a connection she can't quite place, but maybe it's just how soft his edges are. How equally feather light her name sounds from his lips, and she's frozen to her spot. And, well, delighted.
—Scared, of how delighted she is, too. Wanting to reach out and touch him in some way because it— feels right? It's somewhere in the air but she's too anxious to follow it. Lottie Person can be thoughtful, but often? She is not brave. So she lets her feet anchor awkwardly to the floor, lets her free hand comb through her hair to mold the desire down into something reasonable. Something tame and small.
Because maybe it's just her imagining it.. Probably from looking at those big brown eyes of his, how utterly different but still very Cassian his gaze is. Her cheeks warm, the edges of her lips curling up tenderly. ]
[ The very last thing that he would think is that this is childish or lame. Maybe it's because he's come from a place that places so much value on the hard work that is done by hand. Or maybe it's the lessons that his father had taught him, about looking for the beauty and usefulness in the mundane.
Not that this delicate lantern in his eyes is anything but mundane in his eyes. Cassian has lost count of the number of scraps he's pulled sleeping giants and restored to working order. But he knows for certain that there's never been anything quite as delicate as this. It's strange to feel his chest so warm, like that is somehow a manifestation of whatever is passing between them at this moment. It's nice. Soft. Something akin to good that he hasn't thought himself deserving of for some time now. And that makes this feeling as delicate as the lantern in his hands. ]
I do.
[ And if the smile that slowly grows on his face is any indication that is wholeheartedly the truth. He seems to catch himself after a moment rousing from the stupor that they seem to be in. He'll tell himself later that he's not allowed something as soft and kind a gesture as this, but for now the lantern did have to go somewhere. Cassian motions towards his car. ]
You said you had an idea of where to put it. Show me?
[ I do. Cassian says I do with the cutest little smile on his face and Lottie feels— good. So very, stupidly, good, that she doesn't even say anything at first. Is too busy playing over in her mind how his calloused hands so gently touched her gift, like it's something precious. Like it's a little more than just a lantern she slaved over for a ridiculous amount of time to get just right, to meet her standards. Even more so, his.
—Not that he'll scrutinize it. Lottie knows Cassian by now well enough to know he wouldn't do that, it's just she values his opinion a lot. Just as much as she values what he might think of her, and in this moment she's realizing: he's thinking appreciated. He's thinking: I really like this gift.
Maybe, somewhere, Lottie is so nice and cool. ]
Yeah.. [ It only comes out vaguely confident, mostly distracted. She's still thinking about his smile, how he tried to hide it like she didn't see. Cute? He's so dumb. ] Sure!
[ Maybe she is, too, because she's blanking on where to put her coffee now that she's being put on the spot (like she needs to— she doesn't, she's pointing to a place!! Not climbing into his car!), too busy realizing oh. This is exactly what she wanted when she even mentioned knowing where to put it— she's a genius. She's kind of sweaty. She eases closer, past Cassian and into the open window of the drivers side door. Points to the rear-view mirror with her free hand, and after a beat, turns to look back at him. ]
There. That way it's technically by all the windows..
[ "I do." It's so corny that a part of him will probably kick himself for it later but for now it feels right. Right because, for some reason, he knows without a shadow of a doubt that it also makes Lottie feel good. How he knows that he can't say. The temperature hasn't risen outside and his cheeks are still cool to the touch, but that warmth from before only seems to spread down into his bones.
The lantern is precious. She had spent time on it. It wasn't frivolous or something that she'd thoughtlessly pulled together for any particular reason other than her wanting to do it for him. How could it not be precious? This gesture is, dare he say, sweet. And the equally goofy smile that she's attempting to hide is, perhaps a little dumb and a little goofy, but he can't help thinking faintly to himself that it's the best she's looked.
Not that his opinion probably matters.
As she points out where to hang it he nods. But instead of waiting to have her move out of the way he slides into the passenger seat, hanging the lantern up in place before looking to her again for guidance. ]
[ She watches, a little surprised at how quickly he shifts into the passenger seat but just as delighted to see him put to work (really, it's the whole thing: seeing him hold her gift, staying so focused on hanging it up to her weird specifications, looking just as happy as she feels). Eventually, she eases down into the drivers seat, one leg anchored in by the pedals and the other touching the asphalt floor of the parking lot. He looks to her, and Lottie hums. Pretends to "inspect" his work, managing to shrug off the smile on her lips for something a little more cool. ]
Hmmm.. More like this.
[ She says, after shifting the lantern to dangle a little more center (not that it matters, the fact its made its way here into his car, does). ]
But you got the general idea down so, I won't hold it against you.
[ Though Cassian had hung up the lantern, his hand had lingered, for what reason he can't exactly say. Maybe just in case Lottie would point to it and playfully make him re-adjust it until it was just to her liking.
But she doesn't and a part of him is maybe a little bit disappointed because that desire to reach out, to touch her however briefly, still lingers. It's mostly what has him reaching out, removing the lantern that he has to hang it up again. ]
Show me. I want to make sure it's right so I can remember if it gets moved.
[ It's not challenge. Not really. Maybe a little bit. But it's also an invitation as his hand lingers, holding the ornament in place and waiting for her to make a move. ]
[ She's about to take a sip of her drink, lips latching onto straw when Cassian takes it down. It's hard not to watch, to wonder what it is he's trying to do before he insists (show me). It's not a challenge— it's something close to a request, middling onto a vaguely needy because this is totally something she would do. It's cute. It's silly!
She doesn't bother hiding how cute and silly she thinks it is when she goes mhm around her straw, sips her coffee just to make him wait. It goes in his cup holder before she inches closer, eyes darting between him and his waiting hand. Her cheeks are a gentle warm by the time she's actually touching him, fingertips cold and damp to the touch. Nails dipping into divots of his skin where she isn't paying attention (which is impossible, to begin with— she's bouncing between the lantern to Cassian's stupid pretty face, then his stupid pretty hands). ]
We can take a picture, if you want? That way you can always remember the way I want it.
[ By the time they're finished, it is: perfectly aligned. Dangling the right amount to totally get in his way if he looks to the side, pretty enough to be forgiven for blocking his view. Idling a little to the left, sometimes, if gravity allows. With her own hand lingering by the lantern, idly grazing his when she thinks he isn't looking. ]
[ For whatever reason he can tell that she likes whatever...this is. And that makes him feel good about it too. That his quiet, unspoken offer, is something that was the right move since arriving here.
There's more than just warmth that sparks from the mere touch. It draws attention to other things - the softness of her skin, how unlike his they have no callouses or scars from cuts. It speaks of a different life. An easier one that, he hopes, isn't marred by a war that she has to fight in or know. The thought lingers in his mind, a quiet, silly wish that he hopes will remain true for her. Because the life that he lives isn't anything he wants for anyone.
Though the fight is never far from his mind but for now it is. And a part of him is glad for that because this moment manages to keep all his usual thoughts that plague him at bay. It's why, in part, he acquiesces to her request. Tugging out his phone he opens his very rarely used camera to snap a grainy - but good - photo that also happens to capture her hand in a far more artful way than he had intended. ]
[ Does it look good? It looks grainy and a little small, on his screen (call it being spoiled by having gigantic screens for so long), but it's perfect. Makes her feel like she's somewhere else— not quite home, but not quite this wasteland, either. A welcoming inbetween that's just them in his car, her looking at his phone, happy he took to her suggestion. That he listens to her, above all else. Like he cares.
(Historically, she is not used to this. Even amongst friends her voice tends to drown out, a fear that always sidles in the back of her throat. But that acid isn't lingering here, not with Cassian.)
She does like whatever.. This is. He does, too. Cassian looks lighter, a lot more charming than he usually is, asking for what she thinks of his picture. It makes her want to bite down how her smile grows but she doesn't have it in her, to curb her enthusiasm. For once, she feels no shame in letting someone (maybe, just him) see the full extent of her emotions as she nods, ]
Yeah.. It's good. [ Brown eyes look up to meet his, appreciation twinkling in them. ] Can you send me that??
[ It's the first photo someone has taken of her since arriving here. She likes how pretty it makes her feel, the small (unknowing) gesture. ]
[ Honestly the photo quality is far better than anything that he's got back in his galaxy. For all the advancements they have like planetary travel and advanced droids and medtech that they've got on Diadem and the other worlds that fluxdrift have hailed from, there are still some things like these phones that are clearly more advanced. It's not like he had taken a lot of photos before, and he certainly doesn't take many photos now. Not regularly. And if he does it's for practical things. Which makes this photo all the more special in its own way.
It's special because even if something were to happen to the lantern he has proof that it was there. That Lottie had cared enough to make something for him for no other reason than because she wanted to. And it's that fact - and the way Lottie looks so unguarded - that stick in his mind. It crosses his mind that that would be worth taking a photo of too but he's got better impulse control than some might give him credit for.
(That and he can't imagine that she'd be particularly pleased about that.) So instead he sends her the photo, unable to hide the smile that curls at the corner of his mouth. ]
There.
[ Silence falls between them again. It's not something that feels uncomfortable or embarrassing however - it just, is. It blankets them for a moment before he chooses to break it however reluctantly. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Why didn't you just say it was for my car?
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what part of surprise don't you understand??
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[ Except the minute he types it out he stares at his reply before immediately deleting it with the deepest, world weary sigh. ]
So I'm still coming over to get my surprise then?
no subject
ofc! <3
what's your eta?
no subject
Does that work for you?
no subject
text me when you're outside!
i'll come down and meet you
no subject
And true to his word he arrives within an hour making good time because of how little traffic there is (and because he might have driven a little faster than the posted speed limit as per usual). ]
I'm here.
no subject
Excited much?
[ Not as much as she is, buzzing to give him his gift. She takes a sip of one cup (iced, cold with condensation), lets the other warm her hand, untouched. ]
You're here early.
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Traffic wasn't that bad.
[ There's no point in not acknowledging the coffee. It is right there. ]
I'm guessing this isn't the surprise.
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I was craving some coffee and figured I'd get you something, out of the kindness of my heart.
[ She smiles, all sparkly, as she adjusts some things to hand it over. Watching (with those big old eyes) him to see his reaction, if she got the kind of caf he'd like right. ]
The surprise is actually in the bag. Needed something to hide it from you.
no subject
[ And though his tone remains as dry as ever the smile he gives her doesn't match. Nor is it the typical ghost of a smile that he's so used to giving like the effort is simply too much for someone as tired as he is. Rather, there's warmth there. Nothing quite as sparkly as hers, of course, but warm nonetheless as he reaches for the warm cup, relishing the warmth that begins to seep into his skin.
How he takes his caf isn't technically that difficult to guess if you look at him: black, no sugar. So often it's the easiest and simplest thin to prepare when you have little time. From across the rim of his cup the corners of his eyes crinkle teasingly. ]
A surprise and caf? What's the occasion?
no subject
[ She was totally fretting about actually needing a reason, but Lottie decided to try and not worry too much. Which— is kind of hard for someone as antsy as herself but it gets easier, seeing his reaction. The dry but warm way he speaks, familiar enough that she's relaxing already (his smile, too— accomplishment soars through her).
Happy she's played it cool, happy he's enjoying the very dark, very black, coffee. From across the rim of her own cup, she raises her brows playfully. ]
I can go back upstairs if you want me to find one.
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[ But perhaps it goes unsaid and from his surprise from earlier that he hadn't been expecting it. Not that he didn't think her incapable of care; he knew she did, in her own Lottie-way. If she didn't, she probably would have made herself scarce after the state they'd been in after ridding themselves of their hitchhikers.
That she keeps showing up speaks volumes to him. Which is why the longer he stands here with the coffee in his hand it occurs to him that his heart is warmed by the fact that she's gone through all this effort. Amusement continues to pepper his voice. ]
I wouldn't make you walk back up the stairs just for that.
no subject
But she did commit to the present— which is something she hands over to him. There's a good chunk of paper filling (lavender in shade) to hide what's inside: a mini paper moon lantern. Reminiscent of the ones throughout street windows and inside cars. Along lampposts and inside the windows of even the rooms behind them. It's clearly handmade— another Lottie-ism in that she could've stole one but didn't want to seem cheap.
Or worse, like she didn't care. Which is why he even sped over here for the most vague gift in the world at her simple demand makes her feel just as giddy as she does bashful, offering it. It feels all worth it, in a way. ]
I mean, I thought about making you walk upstairs to get that, but then I was like, it wouldn't even make a lot of sense if I said I'd meet you down here, anyway, so..
no subject
It's probably a trick of the imagination. The novelty of Lottie doing something like this for the first time simply because she wanted to. ]
You've done odder things.
[ But even that is said with a lighthearted humour because there had been that silent acknowledgement from earlier. With the present in hand he gives her one final look of confirmation before placing his coffee on the hood of his car so he can properly open the gift.
He really doesn't know what to expect. And he very much doesn't expect this delicate lantern that emerges from the tissue paper. That it's handmade makes the lantern even more precious. After what seems like an eternity he looks up from the lantern towards her, eyes soft and filled with a genuine appreciation. His voice is suddenly quiet taking on that same quality that exudes from him. ]
Lottie - thank you.
[ A part of him suddenly has the urge to reach over to briefly touch her in some way, her cheek, her wrist, her hand, to really show how much he appreciates the effort and time that she went into making this. But he doesn't, locked in place instead. ]
no subject
He really doesn't know what to expect and in a way, she doesn't either. Lottie's scared he might think it childish or lame but what she sees reminds her that Cassian is, in a way, always beating her expectations. The way he looks at her makes her stomach flip and it's probably her imagination, how different this all feels. Like there's a connection she can't quite place, but maybe it's just how soft his edges are. How equally feather light her name sounds from his lips, and she's frozen to her spot. And, well, delighted.
—Scared, of how delighted she is, too. Wanting to reach out and touch him in some way because it— feels right? It's somewhere in the air but she's too anxious to follow it. Lottie Person can be thoughtful, but often? She is not brave. So she lets her feet anchor awkwardly to the floor, lets her free hand comb through her hair to mold the desire down into something reasonable. Something tame and small.
Because maybe it's just her imagining it.. Probably from looking at those big brown eyes of his, how utterly different but still very Cassian his gaze is. Her cheeks warm, the edges of her lips curling up tenderly. ]
..Sooo, you like it?
no subject
Not that this delicate lantern in his eyes is anything but mundane in his eyes. Cassian has lost count of the number of scraps he's pulled sleeping giants and restored to working order. But he knows for certain that there's never been anything quite as delicate as this. It's strange to feel his chest so warm, like that is somehow a manifestation of whatever is passing between them at this moment. It's nice. Soft. Something akin to good that he hasn't thought himself deserving of for some time now. And that makes this feeling as delicate as the lantern in his hands. ]
I do.
[ And if the smile that slowly grows on his face is any indication that is wholeheartedly the truth. He seems to catch himself after a moment rousing from the stupor that they seem to be in. He'll tell himself later that he's not allowed something as soft and kind a gesture as this, but for now the lantern did have to go somewhere. Cassian motions towards his car. ]
You said you had an idea of where to put it. Show me?
no subject
—Not that he'll scrutinize it. Lottie knows Cassian by now well enough to know he wouldn't do that, it's just she values his opinion a lot. Just as much as she values what he might think of her, and in this moment she's realizing: he's thinking appreciated. He's thinking: I really like this gift.
Maybe, somewhere, Lottie is so nice and cool. ]
Yeah.. [ It only comes out vaguely confident, mostly distracted. She's still thinking about his smile, how he tried to hide it like she didn't see. Cute? He's so dumb. ] Sure!
[ Maybe she is, too, because she's blanking on where to put her coffee now that she's being put on the spot (like she needs to— she doesn't, she's pointing to a place!! Not climbing into his car!), too busy realizing oh. This is exactly what she wanted when she even mentioned knowing where to put it— she's a genius. She's kind of sweaty. She eases closer, past Cassian and into the open window of the drivers side door. Points to the rear-view mirror with her free hand, and after a beat, turns to look back at him. ]
There. That way it's technically by all the windows..
no subject
The lantern is precious. She had spent time on it. It wasn't frivolous or something that she'd thoughtlessly pulled together for any particular reason other than her wanting to do it for him. How could it not be precious? This gesture is, dare he say, sweet. And the equally goofy smile that she's attempting to hide is, perhaps a little dumb and a little goofy, but he can't help thinking faintly to himself that it's the best she's looked.
Not that his opinion probably matters.
As she points out where to hang it he nods. But instead of waiting to have her move out of the way he slides into the passenger seat, hanging the lantern up in place before looking to her again for guidance. ]
Like that?
no subject
Hmmm.. More like this.
[ She says, after shifting the lantern to dangle a little more center (not that it matters, the fact its made its way here into his car, does). ]
But you got the general idea down so, I won't hold it against you.
no subject
But she doesn't and a part of him is maybe a little bit disappointed because that desire to reach out, to touch her however briefly, still lingers. It's mostly what has him reaching out, removing the lantern that he has to hang it up again. ]
Show me. I want to make sure it's right so I can remember if it gets moved.
[ It's not challenge. Not really. Maybe a little bit. But it's also an invitation as his hand lingers, holding the ornament in place and waiting for her to make a move. ]
no subject
She doesn't bother hiding how cute and silly she thinks it is when she goes mhm around her straw, sips her coffee just to make him wait. It goes in his cup holder before she inches closer, eyes darting between him and his waiting hand. Her cheeks are a gentle warm by the time she's actually touching him, fingertips cold and damp to the touch. Nails dipping into divots of his skin where she isn't paying attention (which is impossible, to begin with— she's bouncing between the lantern to Cassian's stupid pretty face, then his stupid pretty hands). ]
We can take a picture, if you want? That way you can always remember the way I want it.
[ By the time they're finished, it is: perfectly aligned. Dangling the right amount to totally get in his way if he looks to the side, pretty enough to be forgiven for blocking his view. Idling a little to the left, sometimes, if gravity allows. With her own hand lingering by the lantern, idly grazing his when she thinks he isn't looking. ]
no subject
There's more than just warmth that sparks from the mere touch. It draws attention to other things - the softness of her skin, how unlike his they have no callouses or scars from cuts. It speaks of a different life. An easier one that, he hopes, isn't marred by a war that she has to fight in or know. The thought lingers in his mind, a quiet, silly wish that he hopes will remain true for her. Because the life that he lives isn't anything he wants for anyone.
Though the fight is never far from his mind but for now it is. And a part of him is glad for that because this moment manages to keep all his usual thoughts that plague him at bay. It's why, in part, he acquiesces to her request. Tugging out his phone he opens his very rarely used camera to snap a grainy - but good - photo that also happens to capture her hand in a far more artful way than he had intended. ]
There. Does that look good?
no subject
(Historically, she is not used to this. Even amongst friends her voice tends to drown out, a fear that always sidles in the back of her throat. But that acid isn't lingering here, not with Cassian.)
She does like whatever.. This is. He does, too. Cassian looks lighter, a lot more charming than he usually is, asking for what she thinks of his picture. It makes her want to bite down how her smile grows but she doesn't have it in her, to curb her enthusiasm. For once, she feels no shame in letting someone (maybe, just him) see the full extent of her emotions as she nods, ]
Yeah.. It's good. [ Brown eyes look up to meet his, appreciation twinkling in them. ] Can you send me that??
[ It's the first photo someone has taken of her since arriving here. She likes how pretty it makes her feel, the small (unknowing) gesture. ]
It's super artsy.
🎀🥺 wrap on yours?
It's special because even if something were to happen to the lantern he has proof that it was there. That Lottie had cared enough to make something for him for no other reason than because she wanted to. And it's that fact - and the way Lottie looks so unguarded - that stick in his mind. It crosses his mind that that would be worth taking a photo of too but he's got better impulse control than some might give him credit for.
(That and he can't imagine that she'd be particularly pleased about that.) So instead he sends her the photo, unable to hide the smile that curls at the corner of his mouth. ]
There.
[ Silence falls between them again. It's not something that feels uncomfortable or embarrassing however - it just, is. It blankets them for a moment before he chooses to break it however reluctantly. ]
Lottie - thank you again. I mean it.
yessss 🎀🥺