[Cornelia and Oliver -- Beach]
[She doesn't get very far. Hearing his voice behind her, she tries to quicken her speed, but running barefoot in a tight dress over the sand does not lend itself to very accommodating circumstances when one endeavors to make a fast getaway. Before she so much as brings a hand to her face to wipe away the proof of her emotions, he's standing in front of her and she's looking up at him with fear in her eyes. His hand lifts and she winces, her eyes squeezing shut as she leans her face away from him. He doesn't touch her. But, for some reason, it hurts. Oliver standing there. Oliver looking at her. Oliver trying to touch her. Why is he doing this? What right does he have to look at her that way?
When he speaks again, she opens her eyes, but she doesn't look at him. Instead, she focuses on something else. A different emotion. Hatred. Anger. Bitterness. Anything that will erase the unstable sentiments. And those are the only things that will help her find her voice. It's low. Stern. Not quite cold, but definitely accusatory.]