YES! PLZ! BABY! UNF!
[What Oliver doesn't realize is that she already has enemies. Strong enemies. Enemies who might have already killed her if her sister hadn't been admitted to the prison before her arrival. It has already begun to register that her stature is of little or no importance there. Although there are some who have been kind enough to use her title (properly, not mockingly), it doesn't ring with the same formality that she has grown accustomed to for so long.
Cornelia watches the tired expression nearly transform his face before he returns to the bench, his mannerisms now slow and seemingly stressed with something she doesn't understand. She nearly opens her mouth to chastise him, all the while convincing herself that she doesn't care what he's feeling or what he's thinking. But the smile he gives leaves anything that she might have said compacted somewhere in her throat.
The tone is what strikes her first. It's honest and kind. Completely different from the teasing and the brusque things he had said to her only moments before. And then she is trying to grasp the words. Their meaning. The desire to deny everything he's said to her is strong, but her resolve eventually weakens and the stern features of her face relax, her lavender eyes unable to look away from him for a long time as she stands there, confused and uncomfortable.
Why would he want to know her better? If he is looking to take a woman to bed, he will have better luck elsewhere. And if he is looking for a friend. A comrade. An ally. Well... he certainly has a funny way of showing it. Her sense of humor may be dry and cruel, but she's had little practice with the type of playfulness that he so frequently exudes.
The word 'trust' lingers in the air, creating a compressing sort of sensation that settles over her chest, making it difficult to breathe. If her surprise isn't evident, then the drained pigment of her face should be. She really doesn't understand. How can he be such an imbecile one moment and then someone who appears to be completely genuine the next?
Shifting the ball so that it is supported by one arm, a hand lifts to her forehead, her face partially lowering into it as if she has a headache. She's tired as well. Hungry. Dizzy. Confused. Baffled. Too many things. But, most of all, she's really annoyed with herself for wanting to believe those words. It's frightening. And it makes her feel vulnerable. Her foot moves to take a step back. And then another. She has the ball in her hands this time. It would be easy to escape. If she doesn't eat something soon, surely she'll pass out. The spots in front of her eyes aren't leaving with just a few blinks this time.]
I... should go.
[It is the lamest thing she could possibly say. It doesn't address any of the things he responded to her inquiry with and her sudden lack of courage really makes her feel pathetic. Cornelia never runs from battles, but this is unfortunately one that she doesn't have the proper experience to fight against.]