[There are many things that are ironic about this, but one of the most so is that his reaction to her explaining things the first time is part of what now prompts her to hold her tongue.]
[It was hard, then, to see him suffer so, to see his (false) life destroyed by the truth, as his real one was. She still wishes to provide it to him, that honesty and clarity and understanding, but... having seen what it did before, she can't help being wary of taking things too quickly. She has learned from him, and what she has learned is to tread lightly, to be gentle, not to give him too much information at once. She'd meant it when she said that they'd talk about everything, yes, but when she spoke those words, she'd expected the circumstances to be very different from the ones they happen to be in now.]
[So she still means to keep that promise - in time.]
[But for now, she has to do what she thinks is best for him, even knowing that it might make him unhappy with her later. The consequences of being straightforward, she fears, outweigh the consequences of holding back. His well-being is better preserved, surely, through some discretion. That doesn't make it any easier to see his leeriness, because she knows it is deserved. Bearing it, though, is the least she can do, and she does so with a benign expression, placid and not unkind.]
[And she waits for him to draw his own conclusions, nodding in silent confirmation of the words that he echoes. The question that he comes up with is, to her, an answer; it's proof of the state of his mind, of his memories, that he even knows to ask. The very corners of her mouth tip up very slightly, almost relieved, and there's another irony - in almost any other situation, such words would surely make her frown.]
Yes, [she says, voice soft,] I am. [It seems safe to add,] Like you. [that there might be no doubt about what she knows of that particular subject.]
[She's brimming with other things she wants to say, wants to explain - but she holds back now, too, lips pressing slightly together to prevent the words from escaping, and outwardly makes little sign of her inward concerns. (Perhaps it's best, she reasons, to let him ask the questions.)]
no subject
[It was hard, then, to see him suffer so, to see his (false) life destroyed by the truth, as his real one was. She still wishes to provide it to him, that honesty and clarity and understanding, but... having seen what it did before, she can't help being wary of taking things too quickly. She has learned from him, and what she has learned is to tread lightly, to be gentle, not to give him too much information at once. She'd meant it when she said that they'd talk about everything, yes, but when she spoke those words, she'd expected the circumstances to be very different from the ones they happen to be in now.]
[So she still means to keep that promise - in time.]
[But for now, she has to do what she thinks is best for him, even knowing that it might make him unhappy with her later. The consequences of being straightforward, she fears, outweigh the consequences of holding back. His well-being is better preserved, surely, through some discretion. That doesn't make it any easier to see his leeriness, because she knows it is deserved. Bearing it, though, is the least she can do, and she does so with a benign expression, placid and not unkind.]
[And she waits for him to draw his own conclusions, nodding in silent confirmation of the words that he echoes. The question that he comes up with is, to her, an answer; it's proof of the state of his mind, of his memories, that he even knows to ask. The very corners of her mouth tip up very slightly, almost relieved, and there's another irony - in almost any other situation, such words would surely make her frown.]
Yes, [she says, voice soft,] I am. [It seems safe to add,] Like you. [that there might be no doubt about what she knows of that particular subject.]
[She's brimming with other things she wants to say, wants to explain - but she holds back now, too, lips pressing slightly together to prevent the words from escaping, and outwardly makes little sign of her inward concerns. (Perhaps it's best, she reasons, to let him ask the questions.)]