[ Her fingers curl and uncurl, itching for a chance to hurt him, hurt that face of his, but alas her knife is nowhere near her.
Darn, a missed opportunity. ]
Why are you here? Not only did you take her away and leave me alone, but you tried to kill me!
Just go away!
... My memory fails me, but I can assure you that I wouldn’t normally come in here on my own free will. [ He could understand the hostility, and could feel his anxiety spiking because of it. The sight of Mary in general did this to him, not to mention with an accusation that he attempted to murder her.It wasn’t just an accusation, he forcibly reminds himself. She’s just a painting. Not real by any means... but, her icy stare sure did feel real enough. The hate-saturated inflection in her words hit his ears with a certainty that implied hurt, and maybe even a bit of betrayal. As much as he’d like to deny this guilt, maybe even push it onto his will to protect Ib in that moment she referenced, he can’t ignore the fact that it all could have been handled better. Especially now that Mary herself is staring him in the face, palms coated in soot and the ends of her dress ruined by smolder and ash. ] I’m... I’m sorry. [ He trips over his words a bit. ] I’ll make way with haste.
