"You don't need the wings to be an angel," Meg insisted, wanting to drive the point home. "You're a warrior of God, for fuck's sake. It's not like that just goes away." She shifted uneasily, wanting to lighten the mood somehow, but not sure how to do so. She knew a few tricks, but they were all far too suggestive for the evening she'd planned out. She wasn't used to doing something like this without the end result being sex, murder, or both. She went for the most innocent, and hoped it would be enough.
Sliding her hand cross the table, she touched the back of his hand with just her fingertips. Her expression was soft as she looked at him. It was a small touch, but she hoped it would help to thaw the iciness that had sprung up in her so suddenly. Touching him...having him touch her in return...it had a way of clearing her head and reminding her why she was doing this. Why she was flying against her nature to stay with him. She knew she'd already spent more time exclusively with him in the past week than she had since he'd arrived and she worried that he might send her away soon. They both needed their own space, she knew that. But after spending so long away from him, she was irrationally afraid that leaving him again would result in an even longer separation. She couldn't explain where the fear sprang from, she just knew she didn't want to be away from him. Not now.
"I'm glad I came back," she said quietly, hoping he understood how much it took for her to say that.