[She is synonymous with anxiety, and part of her really misses having a very effective mute button. Fewer and fewer of her coping mechanisms have been working - and it doesn't help that she's without, maybe permanently without the most effective one.
Yeah, I'll meet you at your place and we'll go from there?
[Holyshit. He can't believe she agreed. Honestly, he thought she'd shoot him down, immediately, stop talking and ignore him. But she kept talking, wanting to understand why he would even try. Even if this goes horribly wrong, she agreed, and that feels like the biggest first win in the glacier-slow rebuild of their relationship.]
[She makes herself send him the address, though her shoulders might as well be made of tension rods.] it's number seven
[And she immediately regrets this and is burying her phone under two pillows so that she can curl up at the foot of her bed and not hear it ding again.]
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Point is, he's right.]
11? is that okay
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[Holyshit. He can't believe she agreed. Honestly, he thought she'd shoot him down, immediately, stop talking and ignore him. But she kept talking, wanting to understand why he would even try. Even if this goes horribly wrong, she agreed, and that feels like the biggest first win in the glacier-slow rebuild of their relationship.]
no subject
[She makes herself send him the address, though her shoulders might as well be made of tension rods.] it's number seven
[And she immediately regrets this and is burying her phone under two pillows so that she can curl up at the foot of her bed and not hear it ding again.]