[His comment gets a shrug, her body relaxing again when his voice loses that edge. A lot. It does feel that way, sensing person after person looking back where her own face should be--when did she have so many friends to lose?
(And what would, say, Pixie's reflections look like, if she were here? Ruth'd be disabused real quick of the notion that her own collection of memories is more than a handful, she suspects. It doesn't matter, not the way it might have, once--if anything, it just makes her feel bad for Carver.)]
Some. Yes. Not all of 'em.
[Not her aunt, not her blurry-edged recollection of her mother. Not David. But some.
She's hesitant a moment, trying to make herself speak, before she actually does.]
no subject
(And what would, say, Pixie's reflections look like, if she were here? Ruth'd be disabused real quick of the notion that her own collection of memories is more than a handful, she suspects. It doesn't matter, not the way it might have, once--if anything, it just makes her feel bad for Carver.)]
Some. Yes. Not all of 'em.
[Not her aunt, not her blurry-edged recollection of her mother. Not David. But some.
She's hesitant a moment, trying to make herself speak, before she actually does.]
Pardon, sorry-- What about yours?