For a moment, Cat's jaw did drop -- lips barely parted, she very nearly took a step back, but managed to refrain. She held her ground; her hand slipped off the mailboxes; she nodded. Apparently she had been too harsh in her rejection that first time. Normally, she'd shrug it off; one man was the same as the next, if a bit different, and if she didn't suit one, she'd suit the next well enough. While the admiration of men could be useful, it was a dangerous thing to invest in too heavily.
For some reason, though, this instance bothered her far more than she could have expected.
But there was nothing to be done about it. It seemed clear that door was closed now, and there was nothing to do but collect her mail and make a graceful exit.
"Well I am glad we got that cleared up then," she said, then unlocked her own mailbox to retrieve its contents. Another spike hit, though -- it felt like right between her eyes, and this time with a flash of something past, lovers in shadow, laughter, a smile -- the end of the world. Or the beginning of it. Alone, together, looking over the edge into something entirely new.
Her fingers curled around the edge of her mailbox; she squeezed her eyes shut. She took a breath and slowly released it. Another.
Another.
She needed to get to her flat. She could call Andrew and beg off, she could turn off all the lights and take refuge in blessed darkness.