Am I really Talking to You About This

Shaye might have thought too highly of him, or that's what he would have told her if she'd voiced her opinion aloud. Maybe he would have done all of those things but he would have never thought himself so heroic. Her next words made him focus back on her, though focus was a loose term. She insisted that she was correct in her assessment of his predicament. He thought she was rather correct at first too, the parts of his parents that liked to clash the most warred inside of him. He wanted to have his cake and eat it too.

Shaye quickly devolved back into her sad drunk self, and he wasn't sure if she was still giggling or had started crying. What she said made sense, and when she called him sad he realized she was going to cry. Shaye was a really sad drunk.

His ears fell to his skull and he whined softly as she pushed her worried little head into his chest fur. Rhyme couldn't help himself then, the alcohol, the moonlight, her closeness. He shifted to wrap her up in his arms, unsure about saying anything as she broke down. I love you, she wailed, wanting him to promise he wasn't going to go dying on her.

Rhyme pulled her close and nuzzled his features into the scruff of her coat. He breathed in her scent and tried to subdue his all too eager thoughts. "I love you, Shaye." he whispered back slowly, trying to comfort her and not out himself. "I'll always be here for you," He added, wondering if she had been right about 'all the pretty girls' or if it was just one.