She couldn't tell how serious he was, not right this second, not under that smirk, but she was gonna believe him, that he wanted to be with her no matter what. He was holding her close and she was tucked under his chin and she felt herself relax a little bit; she didn't wanna be all unreasonably emotional and reactive, it just happened sometimes.
She took a deep breath, and couldn't stop herself wondering about Avery coming down under the hill with her. It was a new thought and honestly Lyra was surprised at herself for never considering that version of events, and her brain, well practised now at the what-ifs and how-abouts, rearranged the scenario so that he was at her side. Avery with his hands buried in her hair as they both felt like they could fly together, maybe, Avery with a look of wonder on his face at everything she'd introduced him to, and even Avery running with her as they closed in on all sides with their clutching fingers and bloodthirsty teeth. And how they'd both feel after, having survived all that, how connected and strong and how he'd understand it all, really for real. The thought sent a shiver over her skin, a cocktail of recklessness and danger that never made it to the genuine fear stage, probably because she was some kind of idiot. Her hands stayed gripped tight on his shirt as she pulled back to look up at him.
If he'd been in the graveyard with her instead of Rosario they both woulda been fucked, no doubt. Both woulda needed rescuing. She could know that logically and still get distracted by the thought of kissing him with pure abandon, drunk on faery wine or survival adrenaline. She kissed him now, sliding one hand behind the back of his neck and curling her fingers in his hair. He still tasted like the cheap wine he'd bought her.
"Well yeah," she agreed, all her heightened and tangled and raw emotions refocusing cuz shit, she knew what to do when it came to kissing, that was a way better path to follow than crying, shouting, freaking out that he'd compared her to a drug addict... but apparently not like, in a bad way? But still, he'd said that, and he was still right here with her, no sign of going nowhere. That's what mattered, what she found she needed. "Doncha know that when you married me you married my curses as well? Through faeries and shit, whatever – I want – I need you with me," she pressed her forehead against his, eyes maybe way too close and intense on his but whatever, she felt romantic as fuck all of a sudden, saying that. "Through anything, you know?"