A gentle press. Ellie rests her hands in her lap, looking at him curiously. There's something in her eyes, though; almost a wariness to her curiosity, like some part of her still expects to be pushed away.
It's dimmed over the years, but it's still there. Maybe it always will be.
no subject
A gentle press. Ellie rests her hands in her lap, looking at him curiously. There's something in her eyes, though; almost a wariness to her curiosity, like some part of her still expects to be pushed away.
It's dimmed over the years, but it's still there. Maybe it always will be.