[ He sits down and, as if this had been her plan all along, she pushes the bowl of her own soup back toward him before moving to the stove to make more, herself. ]
I just think it would be best, in the long run. [ Maybe if she's known a thing or two, had been able to take care of herself, at least, she might not have lost her soul. Elizabeth sighs, wrinkling her nose as it itches briefly. Slowly, she raises the back of her hand, drawing it away with a few dots of red. Calmly, so as not to draw his attention, she reaches for a paper towel and wipes the blood away. ]
... What is it that you're so afraid of?
[ She still remembers when he'd first arrive, drunk and calling for her, talking about her hair... What do you know, Booker? What is it that you won't tell me? ]
no subject
I just think it would be best, in the long run. [ Maybe if she's known a thing or two, had been able to take care of herself, at least, she might not have lost her soul. Elizabeth sighs, wrinkling her nose as it itches briefly. Slowly, she raises the back of her hand, drawing it away with a few dots of red. Calmly, so as not to draw his attention, she reaches for a paper towel and wipes the blood away. ]
... What is it that you're so afraid of?
[ She still remembers when he'd first arrive, drunk and calling for her, talking about her hair... What do you know, Booker? What is it that you won't tell me? ]