[ she blinks, parts and closes her lips when he comes in closer. shifts and nearly takes a step back. her head tilts to the side and down, but her eyes look to his. there are so many reasons he shouldn't be involved, chief among them being he could get hurt, or worse.
she is in trouble. only that's her life, and she's been done acting afraid or hiding or running for a long time now, if she ever really did. he's right; there's a reason they have this, this thing between them, and now it's humming in the air around them, real and unaddressed.
her lips thin hearing she can go to him, that he won't go anywhere. the shrewd uncertainty isn't from a lack of believing him, but of believing it too much. she doesn't want it. not for him, not for her, not for any of this. ] Sam, I've told you there are things you don't know. And being involved will get you killed. [ she says it bluntly - not out of fear, but because it's the truth. she isn't just in trouble. she is the trouble.
she blinks as she looks up at him; her mouth works, betraying the calm surety of her expression. she cares about him, is the thing. the look in her eyes soften.
and she doesn't notice the kissing bot stalking them from an aisle over. for the record. ]