( it's more than the fact that she, too, doesn't want to be alone—it's the sight of him standing there before her with clothes clung to his frame like an excess layer of skin, the rumbling overhead only growing all the more determined. it doesn't sit well with her to allow him to walk all the way back to his own place in such conditions; he was a big boy, she was more than sure of his capability to handle himself, but it wasn't necessary. not when the warmth of her own apartment lingered so temptingly close.
if ever there was a testament to her discipline, it was right now, making that decision to invite him in through that front door he'd crossed once before, rooms ridden in the velvet of night and want behind her as he'd stalked inside. of course she thinks about it, isn't naive enough to believe that bringing him back might not be the wisest of moves to anyone who's composure held the risk of fracturing.
her composure she couldn't promise, but she trusts herself enough to understand the boundaries that've been placed around them. the last thing she wants is to hurt anyone, to hurt baby, to hurt him—neither of them deserved it, and so she'll offer him the isabelle her family knew, that shadowhunters knew, reverent and unyielding in her compassion. she'll offer him a friend, even if it's far from all they'd ever be. )
Okay.
( a nod, a whisper, and there's relief there as much as there is that last, lingering bit of understanding that rests in matched gazes. at this rate they'll be lucky if they don't both catch a cold, but it'd be silly to rush the rest of the way when they've walked so casually along thus far—she'll take that next step, and the remainder that lay in the distance between that corner and a familiar entry, digging for keys once they're beneath the front awning, drips falling from both their frames steady enough to mimic the rain. )
no subject
if ever there was a testament to her discipline, it was right now, making that decision to invite him in through that front door he'd crossed once before, rooms ridden in the velvet of night and want behind her as he'd stalked inside. of course she thinks about it, isn't naive enough to believe that bringing him back might not be the wisest of moves to anyone who's composure held the risk of fracturing.
her composure she couldn't promise, but she trusts herself enough to understand the boundaries that've been placed around them. the last thing she wants is to hurt anyone, to hurt baby, to hurt him—neither of them deserved it, and so she'll offer him the isabelle her family knew, that shadowhunters knew, reverent and unyielding in her compassion. she'll offer him a friend, even if it's far from all they'd ever be. )
Okay.
( a nod, a whisper, and there's relief there as much as there is that last, lingering bit of understanding that rests in matched gazes. at this rate they'll be lucky if they don't both catch a cold, but it'd be silly to rush the rest of the way when they've walked so casually along thus far—she'll take that next step, and the remainder that lay in the distance between that corner and a familiar entry, digging for keys once they're beneath the front awning, drips falling from both their frames steady enough to mimic the rain. )