[ The left corner of her mouth tugs slightly upward, half-lidded gold-amber greeting his deep violet and catching his smile. See? It was super important and now that her hand's mission has been accomplished, she allows it to drop and settle atop her stomach. ]

Think 'bout me much?

[ There's something more to be said, but the words die on her lips as her stomach interjects and its muscles contract suddenly, painfully. She clenches her teeth, pressing her hand and digging her fingernails through the fabric of her dress into her skin to distract from the combined pain. The roots that had been working to pierce her lungs had slowed with her initial confession, but their grasping has not. It's weaker, more sporadic than steadfast and determined, but it hasn't halted completely.

Flowers are still growing in her chest, a weight that hangs heavy and dips down from her lungs through the black hole that is her stomach into her unending Hunger.

It dulls and she gasps, not quite relaxing completely, but the direction is there. It happened so fast; and yet, it seemed like a forever.

Right then. She shouldn't -- ]

One's legally deceased.

[ -- and yet, she does. She wills herself to push past the pain and tension attempting to seize her yet again, to rebel against the disease, to speak these small, monumental truths to him. Just a few when she wants to tell him everything. ]

This [ -- and she blinks twice rapidly -- ] is and isn't my true eye color. I [ -- and here, she trails off, her eyes flickering briefly to his lips, where they linger a second too long before returning to find his eyes -- "I really wanna kiss you," that's what she wants to say, but those red words are swallowed in favor of attempting a deep breath ] -- my favorite ice cream is those little balls from that place, Dippin' Dots.

[ Finally, she pauses to let herself try to breathe, to wait and see. She should be looking inward. Instead, she's looking at him, and how. ]