*looks at you and, this far away, she doesn't feel so small (she feels better able to hold her ground)* That's well and good but - *frowns* - it's not just about you, is it?
You were off on vacation, on your own. *shrugs and holds her shopping bags a bit tighter, her knuckles whitening, in an attempt to allay the need to hit something* Next thing we hear from the Flowers is that Glorfindel's off on some fucking mission with you. I had no fucking clue what was going on but what does it fucking matter, Ehtello? What's a fortnight's worry on top of months?