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[ragnarsson]

Wait, so I just speak? That's how it works?...Fine...This is Ivar Ragnarsson. Do what you will.

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[burntbridges]

[When the gesture comes, she's not exactly sure where he's going with it. And when she catches on, it feels odd.. because she's never been the taller one involved. Not to mention it being a rare gesture in the first place, in Thornwell. Still, Ivar is being calm and affectionate, not just allowing her affection, and that's enough to make her heart flutter.

The angle is a little awkward for both of them - she's leaned down enough for her belly to pull her off-balance, and she doubts it's comfortable to hold himself out of his chair like that - so she pulls away slightly after a moment. As she does, her hands move to cup Ivar's cheeks, and she presses a kiss to his forehead. If only they were in bed, these affectionate touches would be more accessible... but she has no excuses to get him there. None except for how empty her bed feels now that she's had a taste of being beside him. Her cheeks are scarlet with that thought, as she stands back up and sort of lingers with her fingers affectionately tracing his skin.]

I trust you to protect me... more than anyone else.

[ragnarsson]

[Ivar sinks back down into his wheelchair, his arms trembling a little, but not from the effort of holding himself up. That was a much more intimate moment than he's ever shared with a woman. Just pure sex didn't even come close to it.]

We should go back inside. It's late.

[It's a retreat, something that's a product of his mind not knowing how to deal with the situation at hand. When Ivar doesn't know how to deal with a situation, he has to think, analyze it, and approach it from all angles until he knows exactly what he's going to do. There's too many emotions involved right now and he has to dissect them.

Without waiting for Letha to answer, he turns his wheelchair in an abrupt manner that makes the wheels scrape harshly against the ground, and he goes back inside.]

[burntbridges]

[She knew Aristeo long enough to know those retreats by heart, but something still feels a bit heavy in her chest when he suddenly turns the chair and she has to pull her hands back to avoid the handles in the back hitting her.

She hates to be left alone like this, given time to analyze, and overanalyze, and panic, and think of every mistake she might have made. After being allowed such intimate affection, she knows she isn't going to sleep tonight.

The door is already closing behind Ivar by the time she thinks to go inside herself, so she silently lets him make his escape and wanders reluctantly to her own bed.]