Like walking through a field full of mines, except the field knew it was dangerous and wanted to apologize after it tried to blow you up and for the fact that it was full of mines in the first place. "I don't know. Nothing?" Exactly what he had said, maybe. It was hard to say, not even Deb really understood what she was trying to gain sometimes. Maybe just the reassurance that they would survive one more blow-up, that he would still be there and sturdy. "Cliche's okay, not like I want you to start writing poetry or something."
She knew what she was searching for, but Deb wasn't sure what he seeked. Didn't know what to try and convey with her expression, aside from a little of her dumbfounded relief that she couldn't quite pull back behind her mask. He was solid so why couldn't she stop testing the foundation?
He'd let her keep hitting him because it was that or she ran, that was his thought process. He wanted her to stay badly enough to just stand his ground and be shoved around. Her choice, her choice, her choice. It was an easy one to make, easier than trying to hold onto a thread of anger that had wanted to dissipate into hollow sadness almost immediately anyway. She sort of started to nod, like she was going to come up with something clever to say, but instead Deb closed the space between them and pressed her cheek over his heart. (And only sort of immediately regretted it when a bit of sand stuck to him scratched her face.) "This," she muffled against him. "Keep doing this." Forever, preferably.