He smiles at her. He looks at her when he thinks she isn’t looking, with those curious and concerned eyes. He teases her about her relationship with Elle, he asks her questions about her life, and when she snaps at him for both things he doesn’t back down for long. Those become easier to stomach and answer the longer they travel together, but nothing else he does does. He catches her wrist every time she tries to storm from a room, lips pursed. Sometimes he apologizes. Sometimes she does. He doesn’t mind it when she leans against him after a battle, or when she nitpicks the order (or the lack-there-of) of his ingredients on the counter, or when she opens her mouth to say something and closes it just as fast, shaking her head. He asks if she’s okay when he catches her being quiet–citing this, even, as a reason to be worried.

Still, she likes him more than he likes her, and she hates every

single