[ Mako doesn't smile at that, because she has to know, because some things are better when spoken instead of known. Her fingers trace over his scars, old and new -- he's her hero even if he thinks otherwise, he's been through so much, and yet he still gives without complaint. Raleigh is a neat package of complications under a simple exterior, and her thumb lightly strokes over one of the newer scars, smoothing over the raised flesh.
She wears some of them herself, knows how sensitive it can be. Mako is quiet as she contemplates this simple, profound truth. Does she love him? How does she define it? ]
I don't know what it's supposed to mean. [ It's nebulous, undefinable and all-encompassing, and is she doing this right? Does she love him? ]
no subject
She wears some of them herself, knows how sensitive it can be. Mako is quiet as she contemplates this simple, profound truth. Does she love him? How does she define it? ]
I don't know what it's supposed to mean. [ It's nebulous, undefinable and all-encompassing, and is she doing this right? Does she love him? ]