[oh she knows. She reaches down and ruffles his hair. Hands grow from the floor, too, touching his legs, brushing against the small of his back. Their presence is faint, like small inquisitive insects. But she needs to feel the entirety of his presence. At the question, she shrugs.
She's not interested in the conversation that answer will bring. No one seems to want to remember how it was. Or can remember. And looking at him now, she knows not even he is a constant. If he is sent home and returns, yes he might come to remember in time-- perhaps even resume how it is right now...
But if he returns from before Whitebeard died... would he really be so concerned? Or would his thoughts be toward home as they should be? She knows the answer, and doesn't blame him for it--yet at the same time it feels inevitable now.
She strokes his jaw lightly and smiles]
We may need a lot of rope if we want to keep our longnose-kun in the house.
no subject
She's not interested in the conversation that answer will bring. No one seems to want to remember how it was. Or can remember. And looking at him now, she knows not even he is a constant. If he is sent home and returns, yes he might come to remember in time-- perhaps even resume how it is right now...
But if he returns from before Whitebeard died... would he really be so concerned? Or would his thoughts be toward home as they should be? She knows the answer, and doesn't blame him for it--yet at the same time it feels inevitable now.
She strokes his jaw lightly and smiles]
We may need a lot of rope if we want to keep our longnose-kun in the house.