Re: Quicklog: Muerte & Eddie
[The jump into talking didn't surprise her, not now that he'd had a chance to work off some of that energy that clung to him even now. And she was a pair of ears for him as he started to speak, nodding a the confirmation that yes, she did know what happened. It was something that she tried not to mention too often any more, but she was aware of the things that occurred in Gotham, even when she didn't comment or take any sort of action on them.
In her time away, something about her had calmed and mellowed in the way that only time could do, like a boulder going softer and rounder (though no less monolithic) in the rush of a river. it left her able to simply sit and listen at first, to not feel the need to offer an opinion or a suggestion immediately. She let him talk in the way he needed to, to get those words to spill out of himself. She listened, and she watched him hunt down his drink's maraschino addition. Still without comment, she reached into her own glass with her fingers and snagged the stems of the cherries there (all 5, and maybe she'd been a little greedy when she'd ordered, but she felt no guilt about it) and transferred them all to Eddie's glass. But then changing her mind and reclaiming just one, fingertips and fruit dripping as she ferried it back across the table and into her glass again.
And when Eddie finally slowed to a stop, when the words ground painfully down, only then did she say anything.] Feelings don't need to make sense. Most of the time they don't. At all. I think that they're about experience, not about one of you being right and one of you being wrong.