[ damon's a toddler. must be a day ending in 'y.' elena scoffs, shakes her head. (she definitely doesn't want to get him a drink, but maybe she'd use one herself.)
she makes to move through him, her arm against his chest, but she's turning back before she even makes a step away from him. something's undone inside her. she's not afraid of the truth. she hasn't been, not since she admitted to this, to loving him; what could have reflected on her worse?
(wanting to rip into people and drain them.) ] You know, I wanted this, Damon. Sired or not, I... [ she trails off, shakes her head, her eyes shining in the low light.
sired or not, she wanted him. ] I wanted to figure it out together. [ not turn away. ]