[ hmmm. it's a fair question, after all she's been through. she looks down at his hand, quiet as she turns it over in her mind, stomach turning over at the gentle affection vergilius offers her. it's always so cute the way he shows it; it's more of a distraction now, but she thinks

it's because he'd like to be close, the way a wounded animal might be, and trusts her to be someone he can do that with. it's nice. it's good. he should have others, too. for now, malkuth presses his hand to her cheek. ]

... It doesn't feel good to be right about disappointment, Vergilius. No one likes to hear "See? I told you so" even from themselves.

I decided a long, long time ago that I wouldn't see things in black and white the way everyone else around me did. That I would search for color, however faint or hidden it was, in every moment, in every part of scenery, in every person, and I still do that now. Because I'd rather see than assume, because I'd rather risk being hurt than missing out on happiness.

[ sure. it hasn't been good. most of the time, it's been bad. historically so.

... but if she hadn't continued to look for a brighter tomorrow, if she hadn't had faith things could be different, then she wouldn't be here now. in many ways. ]

Does that make sense?