[Ilsa remains stiff, almost unmoving at his admission, and she's once again at a complete loss for words. Not because she has no idea what to say... no, she has plenty she wants to say, but figuring out how to put it out into the world in a way that makes any sense of the thousand things she's feeling and has been is the difficult part. It's not often that she winds up tongue-tied or without a rebuttal, but it keeps happening in Eustace's presence.
She waits a little longer, in case there's more that he wants to say, but when nothing comes...
...
Ilsa leans back against the counter.]
If you've thought I regretted anything, then you've been wrong.
[That acknowledgement comes easily, at least. It's the next part that doesn't, and she fixes him with a steady, searching gaze.]
no subject
She waits a little longer, in case there's more that he wants to say, but when nothing comes...
...
Ilsa leans back against the counter.]
If you've thought I regretted anything, then you've been wrong.
[That acknowledgement comes easily, at least. It's the next part that doesn't, and she fixes him with a steady, searching gaze.]
Did you?