Anne would not have thought it ridiculous at all, but of course, would never have voiced such a thing. Keeping her mind on the pattern and the puzzle helped to alleviate the strong desire she had to throw herself at him and say something to the effect of take me, I'm yours! which would not have been like her, at all. She had never been that way; but then, she had never felt this way. Shrewd, she was, a planner in meticulous detail, she was, but he stirred this passion in her -- for lack of a better word -- the likes of which she had never imagined possible, the sort of thing that made her logic go out the window and impulse and feelings seem second nature. "Yes, that makes sense," she said, turning her hand over slowly, letting her fingers run over his hand. "I wonder what other names might be out there. It would certainly be worth asking, though I would imagine some might be less inclined to play nicely than others," she said, well aware that there seemed to be a few on the verge of paranoia about the whole thing. Here, however, with his hand and hers nicely close, she could not imagine anyone thinking such things.
"Of course." He added to her thought. "With our assumption that most of them aren't Greek themselves, we can probably assume they can't read it either. Especially with the response to my entry, like you pointed out. I know if I were in their shoes, paranoid or not, I would want to know what the journal said and seeing as the paranoia would prevent me from asking just anyone off the street, I think I would not be so reluctant to take the offer from a person from within the journal." Or Tanym tried to think, and not think of the way his hand felt warm in hers and how his eyes were drawn to her profile that was near perfection.
Anne thought it perfectly logical, the way he had drawn it all out so neatly. At least, she attempted to reason that it made sense. Sense was a thing that was getting more and more elusive, it seemed. She looked at him and nodded, that want for contact increasing at what seemed an exponential rate, every look at him adding to it in an endless cycle of positive feedback. "I certainly wouldn't think it prudent to go asking people about it, just haphazardly," she said, softly, continuing to move her fingers over his hand. She could see something, then, a sceptre, royal and deathdealing, she knew, and a chariot, black horses. She blinked, the image gone as soon as it had appeared, lasting only a fragment of a second. She gave his hand a squeeze without realizing it.
"Well…" He considered. "These entries are something that can be responded to right? Perhaps all we need to do is make an entry asking, and those who are willing to give it up can. I do not see why it should be more difficult than that." Tanym reached up with his other hand, not wanting to release their hold, and brushed some hair back from her face. "I have a feeling things are more complicated as is, and we wouldn't want to go out of our way to add to it." He could feel the warmth coming off her as if his own body had cooled, it made him want to pull her in even closer.
"So it would seem," she said, listening to him intently. The way he had brushed her hair back made her all the more aware of their proximity. Everything seemed to slow down in that moment, and she felt her breath catch, her heart skip a beat. "I-- think-- you're right," she said, her voice soft again, difficulty to string words together clearly evident, pauses between breathy words very unlike her. She shifted in her seat, just a little bit closer, turning slightly and looking at him closely. His eyes were so familiar, she felt she had seen them so many times before, and there was a feeling of contrite nostalgia, as well, as though she had wanted to see more of them, but never voiced that, kept that little secret bottled up inside. And yet, she knew she had only met him such a short time ago. It was very bloody confusing, all these emotions cursing through her. Her other hand reached up to his and she let her fingertips brush over it gently.