It touched him a little to see Saoirse so uncharacteristically flustered. The annoyance he was striving for all but crumbled away with her words. Howell had no illusions about how he was tumbling further and faster for her than the other way around, but she was a very taciturn person, so there were a handful of times he forgot she liked him at all. He tried rather valiantly to suppress the warmth what she said had blooming in him, irrespective of the semi-break up posed moments before, but couldn't help himself.
Instead, he stopped and sighed, shaking out the cloak he'd had tucked over his arm and throwing it around her, at least intent that she shouldn't freeze to death out here. He took his time as he fixed the clasp, wondering how best to answer her.
"I suppose I do, a little," he finally said, running his hands down her shoulders and resting them there, rubbing a little so the cold skin would warm quickly. "I don't know if it's enough to—I know it's not enough to make me want to stop seeing you, but—" His hands stilled as he blew out a breath, letting them drop to his side as he shut his eyes.
He wasn't sure what life would be like during the season for them; but he was counting on a long, beautiful four months with her before having to worry about it. If this was a taste of what was to come, he was already bracing himself for the full season.
He opened his eyes and smiled wryly. "But I can't tell you no, so… if that's truly what you want… If we're still together, and nothing will change at the finish of the month, then—" My god, how much did he not want to agree to this, "then I'll do my best."
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