Meg had long since given up watching the film, and simply watched him instead. She'd reveled in every shift of his features, so subtle and yet so easy to read. For her at least. She'd also noted, with a growing sense of warmth in her chest, that he'd steadily leaned closer to her. She wondered if he did it consciously, or he was as drawn to her as she seemed to be to him. If she dwelled on it, she knew it would only make her uncomfortable, so she ignored it, and merely let it happen. She could feel the soft fabric of his shirt where it brushed against her bare arm. It wasn't much, but it was enough. For now.
"But what?" she asked quietly. She knew there could be any number of questions this particular film could illicit, from even the most uncultured of viewers. She wasn't exactly the height of sophistication herself, after all, but she wondered which part would stick with him the most. For her, it had always been Rick. Rick loving Ilsa far more than Ilsa loved him. It wasn't that Ilsa didn't love him, just that for her, he wasn't the world. She had a new love, a new life. She might claim to be willing to give those things up for him, but Meg didn't think she ever really would have. Not in her heart. For Rick, though? She would always be the only woman. Lovers might come and go, but she was the one. She was the woman he loved, and always would be. Rick was the reason she watched this movie over and over again. Rick...who would rather see the woman he loved safe and happy than to keep her by his side, where she would never feel complete. Meg could relate.