Cecilia watched Evan's profile carefully as he stepped into the common room--he said something she didn't quite catch, probably something to himself, and her eyes followed him too as he took a seat on the couch. She made her way down to where he was, but she didn't sit next to him as she normally would have, rather in one of the chairs next to the sofa. It was a defense mechanism, if you will, because she had no idea how this was going to go--and quite frankly, if things turned out badly, the last place she wanted to be was right next to him. The chair provided an easy escape route if need be, although she didn't want it to have to come to that. It was better safe than sorry, especially in such a precarious situation as had presented itself now.
As she lowered herself down into the armchair, she finally took her gaze away from Evan, and instead looked down into her lap. The pleats in her skirt were very interesting all of a sudden, and she became momentarily obsessed with smoothing them out with her hands. Cecilia was biding time, waiting for him to say something, because she didn't know how to start this. She didn't even know what he wanted to talk about. Did he want to get into it about her issues again, did he want to talk about what was going to happen to them...?
His expected words, however, did not come. More awkward silence filled the room, making the air so heavy around them that she wondered if she would suffocate from it. This was driving her mad, and after what had to have been a good minute, Cecilia finally looked up again, imploringly.
"What is it?" she blurted, the words coming out before she could even think of what she was saying. "Just--if you're going to break up with me, would you just tell me now? Sue me for wanting this to be as painless as possible."
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