[ She hates the momentary silence; she feels weighted by his stare, and that's why she lets her gaze drop to the ground, only to force it back to his. She's not sure what to expect. She can barely believe what she just said - how she could have said it.
The idea of Damon and her - going too fast, as if they have a speed, as if there's something between them to move them forward. (She knows there is.) Figuring out how she feels, as if it shouldn't be cut and dry - (It's not. It's been a long time since it ever has been, if it ever was.)
When he cradles her face she looks to her feet, leans into his touch, remembers it and lifts her hand quickly to wrap around one of his, shifts with indecision. She's not sure if she should recoil, weigh his touch down, but something reverberates through her at his thumb on her lip and it aches. ] Damon - [ It's soft, the start of something chastising, but she lets it go with a sigh when their eyes meet again. Lightly touches the back of his palm instead.
He doesn't have to say anything. She sees it, and that's why she quiets.
And then fights back a smile. ] I don't need anything new. I have a teddy.