There was too much sorrow between them. Too much pity involved. Love between them was forever out of the question.
But Lady was satisfied. She would keep her own pace when he do the same, drop by occasionally to squeeze his pockets and find no money but pizza grease there, throw jobs she cannot handle in his face, and watch him eat strawberry sundae. Then, without themselves knowing, she would grow old and die, and she wants him to be the one burying her dead body.
It was as if an invisible line was drawn between them. They were not afraid to cross but they just would not. Because it was a game they had to play, because they knew each other much more than any other did. They could not avoid seeing their own past when looking at each other - and that would be too much to bear.
They were not running away. They simply... kept distance.
Lady liked how she and Dante's paths seperate and intertwine at the same time.
Lady could not ask for more.
She would not.