Sometimes it's not what you tell someone, it's in the telling. It's in the stories you choose. In what you think is important to put into the world.

Ellie pillows her chin in her hand to watch John through half-lidded eyes. She knows the type; capable of great things, and terrible things. It all really depends on how far you allow yourself to go, and in what direction.

So she lets John tell it without interruption, her eyes wide and greenish-grey, warmer in the firelight.