[Cato's barely spoken to her, and Clove hasn't tried to speak to him. Not really. He doesn't leave the room, and she'll sometimes be gone from dawn to dusk, eager to be anywhere but inside. But trapped.
But the last few days, he's at least been elsewhere in the apartment, and she's been staying in a little more, reading the Journal or just sitting around.
Tonight, she's curled up in an armchair near the window, letting the warming breeze come in. Open and able to be slipped out of in a moment. It's already heating up, despite the late hour. But Clove doesn't care. She has on long pants -- no shoes or socks -- and a loose jacket over her t-shirt. She doesn't want the teeth marks and scratch marks on her shoulders and arms -- all still wrapped up -- visible. She doesn't want it obvious she's hurt. Physically.
She looks over at him at the question then looks back out the window.]
No.
Why? Should I be?
[She doesn't want to talk. But she can't just ignore him. She can't just refuse to speak to him.]
no subject
But the last few days, he's at least been elsewhere in the apartment, and she's been staying in a little more, reading the Journal or just sitting around.
Tonight, she's curled up in an armchair near the window, letting the warming breeze come in. Open and able to be slipped out of in a moment. It's already heating up, despite the late hour. But Clove doesn't care. She has on long pants -- no shoes or socks -- and a loose jacket over her t-shirt. She doesn't want the teeth marks and scratch marks on her shoulders and arms -- all still wrapped up -- visible. She doesn't want it obvious she's hurt. Physically.
She looks over at him at the question then looks back out the window.]
No.
Why? Should I be?
[She doesn't want to talk. But she can't just ignore him. She can't just refuse to speak to him.]