"Oh, no!" The words tumbled out of Qebhet's mouth in surprise. It hadn't occurred to her that Much might thing he had done something wrong. "Not at all. It was me, I..." She wasn't sure what she meant to say. Another apology, perhaps. She could already feel the warmth stealing into her cheeks as she heard the words leave her mouth, and she was sure her own expression in the moment was just as sheepish as Much's. She wished she could smooth away the awkwardness as easily as she could soothe a burned hand.
But she couldn't leave him thinking he'd crossed a line. So, pushing through her rising self-consciousness, she explained, "I don't have many... friends. Not that know me, not that are like us. And you're so— you're kind and you're funny and I like talking to you. I like you. And I started to worry that if I—" she bit down her her lip, cheeks burning, but she didn't look away from him. "I didn't want to mess things up," she said simply. "I know that's silly."