[Is she lying? —No. If she were, he'd feel it, sense it.
However strange this turn of events might be, there's no immediate deception involved; Ren draws himself up, moving over to the door frame (bare feet scuffing over carpet, palms to the arch, the automated locking mechanism) and letting it shift back to leave them staring, unapologetically, at one another. Her wrapped wrist, his bruised throat.]
no subject
However strange this turn of events might be, there's no immediate deception involved; Ren draws himself up, moving over to the door frame (bare feet scuffing over carpet, palms to the arch, the automated locking mechanism) and letting it shift back to leave them staring, unapologetically, at one another. Her wrapped wrist, his bruised throat.]
About what.