6. And Yes, the Way You Look at Me
He had always been all too aware of her looks, especially after the death. The little courtyard girlish crush transformed into the hopeful want of a woman, but disregarded just as easily. The looking but not-looking from his first officer, intent to not be caught doing what she couldn't ever really stop herself from doing. He continued to ignore it as he'd always done, participating in the farce in order to perpetuate its non-existence. He gave orders as usual.
If only he would look at her, acknowledge her, her love, accept it. But as much as she wished that to be, she knew it would not. Ever watching from the sides of her spectacled eyes, it was the way he didn't, wouldn't meet her eyes. If it wasn't an order, if it wasn't a challenge, if it wasn't revenge, those dead eyes focused on none.