( it's true, at the moment, wishes weren't fulfilled—but isabelle is careful with her agreements, precise. it wasn't long before those three months would hit and she'd be granted the opportunity to return home, to return to brooklyn, to serving the purpose she'd been raised into.

there's no part of her that wants him to carry any sort of pressure, but she can't lie to herself, can't pretend as if he wasn't one of the sole reasons she'd consider staying past that point. was he worth it? she likes to think so, she feels he is, but how long could she put off duty, her name for the sake of love before it proved naive?

she isn't one to push things off, and perhaps that's where they differ. she's bowing her head, tucking her lips together and drawing a steadied breath in thought. she can resolve this, if just for the night—it's going so well, so tender, the last thing she intends is to ruin it with something that isn't necessarily soft. ) Sooner or later, I will have to go home, Baby. Three months is the first opportunity.

( a pause, looking up at him with honesty, clear in her gaze how torn she is. ) I don't have to take it. If you don't want to consider it, not now, you don't have to. But you're important enough to me that I will.