[Chrissy's anxiously taking everything in, making note of the little touches around the apartment that feel like this is definitely a place where guys live. The loud music play combined with the sound of Eddie's voice shouting through the walls makes Chrissy's breath hitch.
And then there he is, looking far different than the last time she had seen him. But Steve had prepared her for the sight of his leg, not that it would make any difference to her. The scars are noticeable, and she knows hers likely are too. Makeup takes care of the ones from surgeries around her eyes, but nothing hides the webbing of scars across her arms and legs. The amount of surgeries and stitches she had needed to become functional again was intense.
Scars aren't really what she's paying attention to though. It's the messy bun on top of his head, a sight that makes her laugh, even as she white knuckle clutches hold of Steve's backpack and feels tears brimming in her eyes again. Her mascara is definitely all over her face by this point. But she doesn't care. Seeing him standing there, eyes wide and looking at her like she's a ghost, she lets the tears freely fall.]
I guess you were right. I really am terrifying, if you're looking at me like that.
[Saying nothing about death or sadness out of the gate, she instead opts for an attempt at humor. Because beneath her tears, she's brightly smiling, and laughs softly as she drops the backpack on the ground. She clumsily hops over it as she makes her way over to Eddie, careful not to knock him over as her arms wrap around him in a tight hug.]
I'm sorry.
[She isn't sure what she's sorry for. For dying? For getting him involved in her mess? For not being there to help him when he needed it? She's sorry for all of that, and a hell of a lot more. Specifics will come in time. Right now, she cries and clings a little as she tries to let him feel that she's solid and real and not a ghost that's here to haunt him.]
no subject
And then there he is, looking far different than the last time she had seen him. But Steve had prepared her for the sight of his leg, not that it would make any difference to her. The scars are noticeable, and she knows hers likely are too. Makeup takes care of the ones from surgeries around her eyes, but nothing hides the webbing of scars across her arms and legs. The amount of surgeries and stitches she had needed to become functional again was intense.
Scars aren't really what she's paying attention to though. It's the messy bun on top of his head, a sight that makes her laugh, even as she white knuckle clutches hold of Steve's backpack and feels tears brimming in her eyes again. Her mascara is definitely all over her face by this point. But she doesn't care. Seeing him standing there, eyes wide and looking at her like she's a ghost, she lets the tears freely fall.]
I guess you were right. I really am terrifying, if you're looking at me like that.
[Saying nothing about death or sadness out of the gate, she instead opts for an attempt at humor. Because beneath her tears, she's brightly smiling, and laughs softly as she drops the backpack on the ground. She clumsily hops over it as she makes her way over to Eddie, careful not to knock him over as her arms wrap around him in a tight hug.]
I'm sorry.
[She isn't sure what she's sorry for. For dying? For getting him involved in her mess? For not being there to help him when he needed it? She's sorry for all of that, and a hell of a lot more. Specifics will come in time. Right now, she cries and clings a little as she tries to let him feel that she's solid and real and not a ghost that's here to haunt him.]