She watched him move, not looking too happy in the process. She always hated when she couldn't touch him and he was right there, so she probably looked a little jilted for a second. "If you don't want to go..." She hurried over to his side and ran a hand up his forearm, wanting to take his hand but stopping herself. "Then we really don't have to. I just want to spend time with you while I have it. That's all I care about." Which was the truth. They could just stay in here and she'd be happy as a clam until he left, when she'd do what she did every time she closed the door behind him: Cry.