p style="margin: 0px 0px 17px; padding: 0px; border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 17px; vertical-align: baseline; font-stretch: normal; line-height: 1.5; font-family: Georgia, Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-size: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial;""Do you want some coffee?" James breaks himself from her gaze to offer the little substance he hopes maybe she'll partake in. He knows he needs something more, but a little something is better than the nothing she's been putting in her body recently. Idina visibly wrestles with the question, wringing her hands beneath the blanket wrapped around her thin shoulders./p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 17px; padding: 0px; border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 17px; vertical-align: baseline; font-stretch: normal; line-height: 1.5; font-family: Georgia, Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-size: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial;""Sure. Thanks." She follows him into the kitchen where he wordlessly makes the coffee for both of them. Her eyes widen and brows furrow as she silently watches him fix it just the way she likes her coffee. He took the time to remember even the smallest details about her, the ones no one had cared to even notice in years. Could he really care about her? This pathetic, worthless, disgusting excuse for a life? Maybe. Tears glimmer in her tired eyes at the thought of someone else caring one thing or another about her. He turns around, looking down at the cup of coffee in each hand. He holds one out to Idina and lifts his gaze to meet her eyes. She takes her mug from him and places it on the nearby counter. James barely has time to set down his own before Idina's arms are once more wrapped around his /"Thank you." James somehow understands that the hushed whisper is for so much more than just the coffee. Maybe it's a moment of vulnerability, maybe a step towards healing. Maybe it's both, maybe it's none of the above. Neither of them know anything in that moment except that in the arms of the other they are safe, and someday everything will be alright./p
p style="margin: 0px 0px 17px; padding: 0px; border: 0px; outline: 0px; font-size: 17px; vertical-align: baseline; font-stretch: normal; line-height: 1.5; font-family: Georgia, Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; background-image: initial; background-attachment: initial; background-size: initial; background-origin: initial; background-clip: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial;""Sure. Thanks." She follows him into the kitchen where he wordlessly makes the coffee for both of them. Her eyes widen and brows furrow as she silently watches him fix it just the way she likes her coffee. He took the time to remember even the smallest details about her, the ones no one had cared to even notice in years. Could he really care about her? This pathetic, worthless, disgusting excuse for a life? Maybe. Tears glimmer in her tired eyes at the thought of someone else caring one thing or another about her. He turns around, looking down at the cup of coffee in each hand. He holds one out to Idina and lifts his gaze to meet her eyes. She takes her mug from him and places it on the nearby counter. James barely has time to set down his own before Idina's arms are once more wrapped around his /"Thank you." James somehow understands that the hushed whisper is for so much more than just the coffee. Maybe it's a moment of vulnerability, maybe a step towards healing. Maybe it's both, maybe it's none of the above. Neither of them know anything in that moment except that in the arms of the other they are safe, and someday everything will be alright./p