Heron Lake Plateau To waste away the waking hours

He could have explained it - all of it.  Just like he'd done with Quixote.  But with her last statement, he felt it.... that feeling.  The stomach turn, the one that makes you want to be better, do things you wouldn't normally.  Maybe not the full on version, but enough that suddenly there were no ghosts, no memories.  Just her, here, now, not looking at him.

Talk about shitty timing.

Damn him for not being able to help it, but he laughed.  Quietly, and only for a minute, but damn.  "Sorry.  But I don't think I've ever been called the most un-fucked up thing in someone's life before."  

He moved to close the distance between them, watching her carefully.  If she rejected it he would stop - he realized he could fuck this up any minute, could have already even.  But he'd hate himself if he walked away now without at least trying.  If he got close enough, he'd reach out, moving to lightly caress her chin with his own muzzle.  She was more wrong than she'd know, but he could maybe help correct her notion of how he saw her.