Is it? If Will Smith isn't in it, I haven't seen it.
[ The naturalness of it is what's so dangerous. She doesn't want that kind of easy pleasantry — not when she knows how little she deserves it, and letting her own mood shift to mirror his only feels parasitic. She doesn't want to be as selfish as she wants.
So even if a little bit of a smile shows in pieces in her expression, for little jabs like that (and what a weird qualifier to have, for rom-coms), she keeps her grip tight on the umbrella, her other arm remaining crossed, shoulders tense. She doesn't look at his face, either, his soft and thoughtful expressions, instead opting for the premise of looking for a game they can play. ]
Anyway, it's... sort of like that. I can feel how everyone around here feels, even if I'm not trying to. It's noise. But when I pull emotions from objects, they don't... they don't pick up your feelings, just by being around you, like I am right now. The emotion has to be a lot stronger for an object to take it, and it has to be from touch. Like...
[ It's something she should have explained at the outset, before he got it in his head to make this offer. It's something she should have explained, at any earlier point. It's something she shouldn't be bothering with, now, when there's so much else on the table.
And yet, she explains: ]
Let's say you have a photograph of someone you love. You want to protect it, so you keep it in a frame, with the picture behind glass. And you love her very much, and you miss her, and maybe sometimes you wish you could talk to her, so you hold onto it and talk to it like you'd talk to this person. You pour a lot of your heart into it.
But, while you think it's the photograph that's capturing your feelings, you never touch it. You always hold it by the frame. When you get upset, and cry, your tears only reach the glass. So... if you took the photograph out of the frame, and gave me that, I wouldn't be able to feel anything about that person. But if you gave me the glass, and the frame, with no picture in it... my power would react.
If I want to use it to drown out anything else, it has to be an incredibly strong emotion. Most people don't reach heights like that unless they're in pain.
[ My anchors were vessels for pain, she says, with pieces to a puzzle held in separate hands. ]
So ... it's hard for me to see you having something like that. That you'd really be willing to part with it. ... I don't want you to be disappointed when it doesn't work, the way you hope.
no subject
[ The naturalness of it is what's so dangerous. She doesn't want that kind of easy pleasantry — not when she knows how little she deserves it, and letting her own mood shift to mirror his only feels parasitic. She doesn't want to be as selfish as she wants.
So even if a little bit of a smile shows in pieces in her expression, for little jabs like that (and what a weird qualifier to have, for rom-coms), she keeps her grip tight on the umbrella, her other arm remaining crossed, shoulders tense. She doesn't look at his face, either, his soft and thoughtful expressions, instead opting for the premise of looking for a game they can play. ]
Anyway, it's... sort of like that. I can feel how everyone around here feels, even if I'm not trying to. It's noise. But when I pull emotions from objects, they don't... they don't pick up your feelings, just by being around you, like I am right now. The emotion has to be a lot stronger for an object to take it, and it has to be from touch. Like...
[ It's something she should have explained at the outset, before he got it in his head to make this offer. It's something she should have explained, at any earlier point. It's something she shouldn't be bothering with, now, when there's so much else on the table.
And yet, she explains: ]
Let's say you have a photograph of someone you love. You want to protect it, so you keep it in a frame, with the picture behind glass. And you love her very much, and you miss her, and maybe sometimes you wish you could talk to her, so you hold onto it and talk to it like you'd talk to this person. You pour a lot of your heart into it.
But, while you think it's the photograph that's capturing your feelings, you never touch it. You always hold it by the frame. When you get upset, and cry, your tears only reach the glass. So... if you took the photograph out of the frame, and gave me that, I wouldn't be able to feel anything about that person. But if you gave me the glass, and the frame, with no picture in it... my power would react.
If I want to use it to drown out anything else, it has to be an incredibly strong emotion. Most people don't reach heights like that unless they're in pain.
[ My anchors were vessels for pain, she says, with pieces to a puzzle held in separate hands. ]
So ... it's hard for me to see you having something like that. That you'd really be willing to part with it. ... I don't want you to be disappointed when it doesn't work, the way you hope.
[ She forces a shrug. ]
That's all.