Firefly Glen the finite and the infinite

In answer, he frowned at her. There was something different about this expression. It wasn't just sad, it was... distasteful? Before Meerkat could decide if that word fit, he spoke. He turned her down, said he couldn't do that. The slight stammer made her heart clench, only to drop into her stomach in the next beat as she processed the entirety of his sentence.

She paused, several emotions suddenly welling up inside her. She felt strangely shaky as she tried to gather her thoughts and sort out how to respond. He said he couldn't go with her. What did that mean? Was it too hard for him? That was the natural assumption. In that case, should she try to coax him along anyway? They were—they were mates now, weren't they? They should do things together, support one another.

But her inner counselor reminded her that trying to force him to do something he wasn't ready to do would be unkind. And this wasn't some petty issue. They were talking about their comrades' graves. It was understandable that he might have a hard time facing them. Meerkat's lips twitched downward into an echoing frown, which felt strange on her face. It was almost as if the muscles didn't know exactly how to flex that way.

Although she worried that he might not be able to articulate, Meerkat decided on asking, "How come?" Her voice was as gentle and hushed as the snowflakes that tumbled around them.