He listens as she speaks, and when she's finished, he shifts, just a little. Keeping one arm around her, he finds her hands with his free one.
(there's blood on my hands)
One by one, and with devoted concentration, he kisses each finger, as if by doing so he might purify the stain she still sees. Last of all, he turns each hand and presses a kiss to each palm. Only when he's finished does he speak, looking at his own fingers curled gently around hers.
"I'm sorry," he murmurs. "It's a hard thing, to take a life. Especially when you'd have no quarrel with the one you're fighting, if not for only one or two differences in the world, or in timing. I'm sorry you were forced to such a thing."
no subject
(there's blood on my hands)
One by one, and with devoted concentration, he kisses each finger, as if by doing so he might purify the stain she still sees. Last of all, he turns each hand and presses a kiss to each palm. Only when he's finished does he speak, looking at his own fingers curled gently around hers.
"I'm sorry," he murmurs. "It's a hard thing, to take a life. Especially when you'd have no quarrel with the one you're fighting, if not for only one or two differences in the world, or in timing. I'm sorry you were forced to such a thing."