[ it doesn't look like it; she's pulling her hands away from him so she can cover her eyes, turning clumsily on her barstool so her back is to him. very quiet crying, but crying nonetheless, and her stomach burns with it. what an utter disappointment she's being—not to Eunoia and Selcouth Vaux, but to herself. ]
no subject
I wish I knew why I became like this.