Re: Marta / Seven
[And already he's uttering silent curses in his head, because he wanted her to shout at him. At least it would have been easier, to turn his back and drive off into the night and ignore the weight of her silence on the other end of his phone. But the softened cadence of her voice is dangerous, and it hooks itself into the middle of his chest and tugs at something there. It holds him back from turning away and so he leans his hip against the seat of his bike for a moment, shutting his eyes and rubbing at the bridge of his nose with one hand.]
Come here. [It's a request, rather than a demand.]