Neverwinter Forest Miss Misery

There was an answer on his lips, lingering in a place where hope rarely dared to tread. In his heart, Whip knew this was what he wanted; to be a part of something, to no longer walk alone in such an unfriendly, unforgiving world -- and yet, he still found himself abundantly reluctant to speak the words. For it was one thing to wish for an end in the silent daydreams between the nightmares that followed from Themiscyra, it was another to commit. With him, he would bring his baggage and inadequacies to the door, and soon, soon enough, this kind stranger would see him for what he truly was. And would she let him stay?

There was a tiny voice in the radio static. A nagging thing; a needle pulling thread, and it told him: you'll only dissapoint her. It was his own. Save her the trouble.

"I think -- I think, I'd like that," he told her after a breif moment of contemplative deliberation. He chose to ignore his intuition, but the deep seated worry from which it came remained in the pit of his stomach. It looked more like an uncomfortable grimace than a smile, but Whip tried to offer some sort of friendly gesture. It was a brooken looking thing, but it felt --

It felt alright.