Wandering (Gin)

Mornings at the Leaky Cauldron possessed a certain charm. The sun's first light cast a warm glow upon the timeworn wood of the establishment, and the early hour found the pub relatively subdued. A smattering of patrons passed by, sipping their morning tea or coffee before venturing forth into the bustling alleyways of Diagon Alley, but for the most part the atmosphere was wholly unlike the loud bustling social center it would regularly become by the evening. Darren preferred it this way. He had been staying at the inn for 3 days now and had grown to enjoy spending the mornings downstairs with a book and a cup of hot tea.

He was seated at an otherwise empty table near the fire, with his book and a copy of the Daily Prophet spread out in front of him. As often happened, the words he was reading barely registered in his consciousness, as he instead fell deep into a stream of thoughts. Darren thought of the last time he had come to Diagon alley, on one of his first dates with Lucretia. That had been a relatively brief relationship. With his family gone, Darren had finally settled into his role as the head of his ancient pureblood family, and Lucretia Avery was considered by all in that circle to be a good match. In the end, it had not worked out, and perhaps that was for the best, for there had never been any passion there. Certainly not from him. And yet, Darren had to admit that he missed, if not precisely her company, then at least the company of *someone.*

Darren surveyed the pub, observing the appearances of some of the regular customers who stayed at the inn. Some of them were quite unkempt, seated on their own, perhaps with nowhere else to go and, like him, lacking purpose. Unlike them though, there was no trace of anything but extreme orderliness about Darren. Although his hair had grown longer than he would typically allow, and the trace of a beard marked his visage, there remained an unmistakable air of refinement and elegance about him. The hair only seemed to suit him better, and the neat, clean, and expensive robes he was wearing made perfectly clear his class and status.

It was certainly unusual to find Darren in such a place. A man who cherished solitude and comfort, he would customarily seek the familiarity of his own lodgings, where his house elf was sure to be far more attentive than the old barman of the Leaky Cauldron. But if Darren was truthful to himself, the real reason for this brief stay at the Leaky Cauldron was for the small chance of encountering a familiar face. Several weeks had passed since he had engaged in conversation beyond meaningless small talk with muggles at his village, and over a year had passed since he had last met a friend – when Ginevra had visited him at his home. He had turned her away before long, but Darren had revisited that brief meeting in his thoughts many times with the same feelings of confusion and regret that permeated many of his other memories of her.

The hospital environment was not for everyone. It was fast paced, high stress and quite often, gory as hell. Well, at least in the department that Ginevra had transferred into. Ginevra had been working as a healer for a few years now, recently specializing in creature injuries. A majority of her coworkers were unaware of her ‘furry little problem,’ albeit not from intentionally hiding the information. Ginevra was naturally a very honest person, some would say to a fault. For those who had been brave enough to ask if she was a werewolf, Ginevra told them the honest reply. For those who wondered, she left it to their imagination. Post-war mentality had not changed much from pre-war. There was stigma regarding her kind and she had grown up around the prejudice people had regarding blood-status, never mind those who had fallen to the misfortunate of being attacked and life forever-altered.

Today had been one of those days. Gory. A lot. Not with a high level of hope for positive outcomes. Ginevra moved slowly as she walked out of her ward, bag slung over her shoulder. She leaned against the wall as she pulled one leg out of her scrubs, moving to the next and using her foot to fling it at her bag now on the floor. She changed into a pair of black faux-leather leggings and a light, baggy sweater. There had been a pattern of over-dressing for the weather when she began working the overnight shifts, as she often forgot that it would not be as chill in the morning as it was in the evening. Sighing as she realized her oversight, she shrugged her shoulders, roughly shoved the rest of her clothing into the bag, and headed out to Diagon Alley.

Her life was fairly absent of purpose outside of work. She had a hobby here and there that engaged her time; otherwise she had a routine of wandering around, window-shopping and working through her constant need to act on impulse. Since the attack, Ginevra had reassessed her life and tried to fill whatever void she felt. When something presented itself, especially if it had a tendency to be reckless, she would force herself to look at what was feeding into her need for the ‘next’ thing. More often than not, she was brought back to the constant that she tried to forget.

Stretching her head and neck from toward one shoulder and then the next, she walked down the streets and tried to shake the thought of Darren out of her mind. This would happen from time to time, the thought of her old friend intruding into her thoughts. It was only when she passed The Leaky Cauldron that she looked into the window, walked a few steps and stopped abruptly. Was this a funny trick her brain was playing on her? Because it sure did not feel very funny. She walked backward the few extra steps that had been taken and stopped, peering through the window. Sitting on a chair, book and newspaper in front of him, was a slightly stuffy version of the male she had been trying not to muse over.

Completely ignoring the side of her that was screaming “we don’t act on impulse anymore!” she turned around and entered the pub. Pulling out the chair across from him, she dropped her bag into the seat and grinned. “Miss me that much, you had to come all the way to The Leaky Cauldren in hopes to see me?”

Ginevra was blatantly aware that she was choosing to block out the rejection they last left on. When had she ever chose to accept it, really?

Darren's reverie was abruptly interrupted by the sound of a chair scraping across the floor. He looked up, startled, and found himself staring into the face of Ginevra Malenki. The sudden appearance of the person he had been contemplating moments earlier left him temporarily stunned.

“Gin!” he exclaimed, before he could stop himself. He couldn’t help but smile slightly in turn.

In truth, it wasn’t that surprising to see her here. That was why Darren was at this place after all. Most of his old Hogwarts friends would surely pass through the Leaky Cauldron if they worked in London, and he was aware that Ginevra worked at St. Mungos as a healer. He assumed, however, that in all likelihood he would just catch a glimpse of her and know that she was okay. Her brazen sudden appearance at his table had not been what he was expecting.

He wasn’t sure what to say, and for a second could only gaze intently at her face. Seeing her filled him with a bittersweet feeling he could not describe. It was at once happiness, regret, and nostalgia. His eyes then fell to her muggle attire and narrowed slightly. He had never understood how muggles could wear such uncomfortable clothing.

Normally he’d respond with something witty or sarcastic, but from the depths of all of his confused thoughts, all he could muster was a quick lie. “Well, I came by today to visit Gringotts…’ he said. ‘But, it is nice to see you, Gin.” It was quite formal, but Darren had hardly interacted with anyone for two months now. And in any case, he still wasn’t quite sure what he wanted this to be. Certainly she had moved on, and probably more successfully than he had… With the war over and the darkness that once shrouded his youth gone, his reasons for keeping distance from her were not quite the same. But, he didn’t think they could be friends. The depths of his feelings towards her were too strong.

Nevertheless, he had been overly harsh with her last time, even though she had apparently not taken it to heart. He saw no reason why they couldn't engage in a pleasant, friendly conversation. Darren desperately needed that, and moreover, he was consumed with curiosity about what she had been up to and, more importantly, whom she was seeing. For distance, and his rejection of her company, had done absolutely nothing to make him feel less possessive of her.

“You look... tired,” he noted. It was true. She looked as beautiful as ever to him, but beneath the obvious reflection of excitement in her face, she looked tired. Briefly, Darren wondered if it was full moon, but he remembered he had seen a new moon not too many nights ago. He would often check for the full moon and think of Gin, and what she must be going through, but he had never once brought up the topic with her. “You should get some coffee,” he added, assuming she had not slept well. The thought of someone working an overnight shift didn’t really cross his mind.

Ginevra could not help but let out a bigger, slightly cocky grin as he exclaimed her name. During their school years, he had a hard exterior and a majority of people did not stick around long enough to figure out what was underneath that surface.  With that being said, there was not much of a difference when it came to her. Growing up in Ravenclaw, she had less of a stereotype than a Slytherin would in regards to approachability. Similar to her impulsivity, whether she was approachable had plenty to do with the first-impression and was extreme or the other. Even now, she either would welcome you with open arms or place up her walls instantly. Darren somehow strolled right through every door she attempted to place.

Ginevra had always liked a challenge and testing his boundaries was first and foremost one of her natural talents. As much as they had both pushed each other away other the years, he had occasionally pulled her back with little slip ups that revealed he could manage to be excited about her appearance. Tilting her head and allowing him to process that she had appeared, Ginevra rolled her eyes when his expression changed upon handing on her clothes. “If you wanted to check me out, all you had to do was say so.” she said, a cheeky tone lacing her voice. A little bolder than she would initially start with, though she truly felt the need to test where he was at. Was he initially surprised to see her because he had been hoping to pass through unnoticed? Did their last conversation play back in her head like it did hers?

His smile brought a sense of normalcy into her life, tracing each line with a sense of nostalgia that made her heart smile in turn. Eyebrows raised, she took her turn to look him over, not bothering to hide the fact that she was in no rush. When had she ever worried about making him uncomfortable? Here we were again, what boundaries? Returning to the stubble on his face, she clicked her tongue and replied, “any plans for the day?” she had been very close to making an off-handed comment about his less than pristine-appearance, but the shadow of a beard was really working for her. “It is nice to see you too, Darren.” she added, mindlessly running a hand through her hair.

Did he think she looked different too? What else did he disapprove of, besides her close? Trying to focus on anything apart from her rushing thoughts, she had never found it easy to be apart from him. Could she be a mere friend to him? Was she capable of not trying to get under his skin, to get closer to him? She honestly was not sure. She had done it for years, but with unconscious motive. The moment when she started to realize that she had passion that lay below her friendship feelings for him, there had been a bigger struggle in hiding that. “Thanks Sherlock, you sure know how to make a girl feel stunning.” She mused, not arguing that she likely could use some caffeine, taking it upon herself to sit down and order a coffee for herself. “Would you like a coffee? I worked an overnight, so I’m sure the bags under my eyes aren’t the worst thing you can pick out.” Ginevra momentarily resisted the urge of sniffing herself to ensure she didn’t smell like blood and death but remembered his sense of smell was not as keen as her own.

Sitting there across from him, she sat with slightly baited breath, waiting for him to turn her away or get up and walk out.

Darren almost groaned at her comment but at the same time repressed another smile. She was exactly the same as she had been at Hogwarts… He had missed her deeply, in truth. No one else would have barged in like this, ignoring both their previous conversation and his formality. She had never been afraid to challenge him, and he had always found that both frustrating and invigorating.

“If I was, I’d be more discreet about it, unlike some people,” he responded, somewhat casually, catching the way she was looking at him. Her casual tone had inadvertently induced the same from him. Apparently, his slightly rugged appearance didn't bother her in the least, which pleased him. He had to admit, even though he didn't understand muggle clothing, she did look good in whatever she was wearing. Maybe it was just because it was Gin, or maybe it was just that the clothing was quite different to what he normally had seen the pureblood girls in his circle wear. Lucretia certainly wouldn't have been caught dead in muggle clothing.

“Plans? Well, Gringotts, then back home,” he lied. Well, in truth he had booked the Leaky Cauldron room for the entire week, and this was the third day. But the entire purpose had been to see Gin, and now that was done, Darren thought he might just head back home. But not after catching up with her more. He was still burning with curiosity. The lie gave him an opportunity to find out more, and then leave soon if necessary.

Darren had thought that she would have taken their last conversation more to heart than this. He had thought that would have pushed her to move on. Well, perhaps she had. But it definitely seemed to him at least that she wasn’t thinking much about it. He had thought about apologizing, but it felt like it was better to just move on. And, for now, he had least wanted to have a normal conversation. After all the events of last year, Darren knew that at least he owed it to someone like Gin to try, one more time as an adult, to explain himself. And perhaps to even be friends again.

“I’m fine with my tea,” he said, pointing to the cup next to his book. His book! Darren had totally forgotten it and hoped she hadn’t read the title. Hastily, he placed the newspaper over ‘A court of thorns and roses Magick Moste Evile’ and moved his tea closer to him, hoping she wouldn’t notice. It wasn’t that Darren was particularly interested in dark arts, but nothing to do all day did mean he had plenty of time to read anything and everything.

He had assumed she hadn’t gotten enough sleep, for several possible reasons – some which were particularly bothersome - and was rushing to work. He had not thought of overnight work for healers, but he supposed it made sense. St. Mungos couldn’t just close after all. That sounded awful to Darren, who liked having a proper routine, and sleeping at the appropriate time. [[[[OOC: Unlike me, writing this post at 4:30 AM to keep my promise :”) ]]]]. “I'd have invited you to sit, but you obviously didn't need the invitation. Lets catch up on things, I’ve…” He had been about to say that he had missed her. But he needed to know what they were exactly first. He quickly changed course, somewhat awkwardly. “…just remembered you work in creature injuries right?” There was a good joke there, Darren thought, with werewolves and creature injuries… but now was neither the right time nor the right audience. “Tell me about it. Seems like it was a long day.”

For every one thing Ginevra and Darren agreed on, they disagreed on three others. Her worldview had been flexible to growth prior to meeting him, but had been reinforced in the stereotype of ‘don’t judge a book by its cover’ year after year. To this day, she was unsure what about Darren had kept her coming back. He had not been the ‘nice’ guy in school. He had shown interest in girls that were not her, discounted her heritage on numerous occasions and yet as strong-willed and proud as she was, the man melted something deep inside her. She could sense that he cared about her and used to see the odd time that he was protective of her well-being. However, after their last conversation, she had told herself that he had to be written off. The occasional wave of protection could not be enough to sustain the level of dedication she was allowing him to squeeze from her. She told herself that this time would be different from the last; that he had to be placed in her past.

It was not until she went on a date with another old school mate that she realized it was unlikely anyone else would have her heart; at least not anytime soon. The "nice guy" routine bored her. He meant well, but there was nothing playful in their conversations, nothing to light the fire that she had simmering in her soul. She wanted that passion, she wanted someone who understand her for all the good and all the quirks. “Mmm, discreet seems real overrated” she mused, shrugged her shoulders. Nodding as he rattled off a list of plans that essentially entailed nothing, she sucked in a breath and summoned a little bit of courage to suppress any lingering resentment in her tone. “My… sources tell me you have a girl in your life, she holding that leash tight now?” Ginevra was not sure that her tone held full levels of holding it together- she absolutely hated the term “holding the leash tight” like somehow a partner could control the person that they were with. How else was she supposed to fish? Hey, I checked in on you without your knowledge and saw that there was some pureblood playing house. What does she give you that I couldn’t?

Yeah… that wouldn’t sound creepy or bitter at all. Ginevra had unconsciously glanced away as she finished her sentence, thanking the waitress how had handed her the coffee she ordered. Mindlessly moving her finger in a circle, she stirred the spoon in circles before glancing back in Darren’s direction. Ginevra had mastered wandless magic early on, more to try and one-up Darren by having the ability faster than him. Raising her eyebrows as he not-so-casually covered up his novel, she let her eyes linger in that direction a few seconds longer to make him squirm before deciding to leave that hidden gem for later. She had to pace herself.

”Why would I need an invitation? You obviously love my presence. I have that aura about me” she quipped, snickering to herself. Her finger stopped as he paused on her words, allowing him to stumble. She stared at her eyes, searching for some sort of sign on what she thought he was about to say. Why did he have to be so darn hard to read? Or was it that she thought she had him figured out, to only be told otherwise in the past. Waiting for the punch line to come about her career, she sighed when it didn’t come. “There isn’t another ward that felt right. I have tried a few but I need the rush, for one, and well… it’s better than only feeling like a monster without any control or chance to mend.” she trailed off at the end, tilting her head in his direction again.

”What’s up with you? You haven’t even attempted to make one dig at me. Well, apart from calling me on checking you out, but that one was a given. Your ego knew that the minute I waltz in” Surely there was a better shot to shoot but between two stubborn arses, this would have to do. Ginevra did not have the ability to simmer in wonder about whether he was going to get up and leave. She had to test the waters slightly more before settling into a comfort level that they could continue to talk freely and she wanted too, really, really bad.

“Sources…” Darren scoffed, rolling his eyes. He had not anticipated that. Ridiculously proud as Lucretia was, Darren didn’t think she had even befriended too many half-bloods, and werewolves were certainly out of the question. But he realized it wasn’t unlikely that they shared a mutual friend, and Darren guessed that gossip traveled fast among young women. “You went into the wrong profession. Nose like that you could have been the next Rita Skeeter,” he added, making his disapproval clear at her prying, while sidestepping her question. Well, whatever rumors she had heard, at least Gin didn’t know what a failure the relationship had been. Apparently Lucretia’s friend group hadn’t broadcasted that part to the world… yet. “But if you are so interested in talking about love-lives, let’s talk about yours.” He didn’t mind telling her about Lucy, but he figured he may as well leverage her curiosity to find out what he really wanted to know first.

Darren looked away as she mentioned her lycanthropy. How could she be so candid about all of this? That was the last thing he wanted to talk about. He realized he should talk to her about it, find out what she was going through, as any friend would. But he didn’t. “Well, I’m glad you found something you enjoy. I was never able to do the same.” That was not entirely true either. He had enjoyed being a curse breaker at Gringotts. But he also hadn’t been able to stand working under Goblins. Someone like Lucretia would prefer he did nothing instead of working in such an embarrassing position.

Darren reflected on the fact that what Lucretia had cared the most about was his name, and his blood. But Gin had always been his closest friend; she cared about who he was and had become. But Darren was proud of his name and his blood, he was not proud of who he was, and being anything with her, even just talking to her right now, meant he had to confront that. And all he could do was suppress it all for now and try to maintain an amicable conversation. She was not letting that happen. He had also evidently not been discreet enough with the book and was sure that she was going to bring that up at some point.

What should he even say to her exactly? That he hadn’t even talked to anyone for a long time? That he hadn’t talked to her for years, and amidst the whirlwind of thoughts and feelings in his head, he couldn’t exactly just immediately go back to what they used to be. “I’m sorry I’m not able to rewind the clock back years, Gin, and act like everything is the same. Believe me, if I could, I would change a lot of things.” Like not letting you go be an idiot and become a werewolf, he thought savagely. He had enough self-control to not say that, but his voice clearly betrayed some of what he had been feeling. “I’m glad you haven’t changed… Gin,” he added, faintly smiling once again. Indeed, this had been exactly how she always was, and the rush of nostalgia was a deeper feeling than any he other he had experienced in the last year. “But… I just want to have a friendly conversation over tea and coffee, can we just do that?”

“Impressive magic by the way,” he said, waving at the still swirling spoon. “I forgot you could do that.” It was impressive, but Darren was clearly saying that to force the conversation back to being more casual.

When Ginevra had initially gone to try to reconcile with Darren as friends and realized that there was another girl around, she had not questioned her blood status. If she had a pet peeve in the Wizarding World, it was the association of worth with where your parents came from, not who the individuals were, or even who the individual themselves were. As Darren scoffed at her, she kept her face as blank as she was able to in the moment. Could have been the next Rita Skeeter? Ginevra managed to gently press her lips together to keep from reminding him that this was not a past tense skill set she was able to hone. She smiled as he tried to evade the question and slightly faltered as she realized he was turning it back on her. Hadn’t quite thought that route through, had she? ”I’ve been on a date or two” she replied.

In truth, there had only been one date. She had come across Matt in a bookstore and as nice as the date was, something was missing; that something was across the table from her. Though she knew Darren was likely aware that she was stuck on him, this was not information she was going to freely let him have. He had repeatedly told her that she was not the girl for him and for once in her life, she was going to try damned hard to not wear her feelings on her sleeve. ”Tell me about her.” she replied, trying to sound genuinely curious and not irritated that this was a reasonable conversation that they could have.

As their friendship processed over the years, they have both gained a habit of assuming they understood what the other person was experiencing. Personally, Ginevra had this skill work for her the same as her own skills were being managed; one extreme or the other, very wrong or right on the nose. Watching Darren avert his gaze, she tried to avoid rolling her eyes. ”You have skills. There seems to be more of a pattern with not knowing what you want in your life.” Living with lycanthropy, she had no choice but to accept that this was how her life would be moving forward and make the best out of a shit situation. She resisted the urge to tell him to put his big boy pants on, as she remembered that it had been difficult for him to realize that the way she cared for him had contributed to being in the situation that led to her attack all those years ago.

Reflecting back on her own experiences, she had grown in ways that most could not externally see. It did not help that the pieces of her that she was trying to manage had a tendency of coming out full throttle when Darren was involved. Ginevra let out a bitter laugh. ”I’m sure there is so much you would want to change, the man of so many regrets, clearly.” Ginevra was not sure what was driving the hint of acid in her tone. She had walked into the pub with the intention of being civil, with the intention of being the bigger person and getting closure to move forward with the assurance that she made the right decision. All that this attitude of hers was going to get her was assuring Darren that he had made the right decision in moving away form their friendship. Even as that thought crossed her mind, she glanced at her spoon and let it fall to the side of her cup with a clank, returning to the silence between them.

“A date or two…” Darren repeated. Obviously she had deliberately refrained from giving him more information, knowing he would be curious enough to ask for more. A date or two certainly didn’t sound like it was something serious… yet, at least. But did it mean she was moving on? Or at least trying to? He wasn’t pleased at the news whatsoever, but then again, shouldn’t he have expected this? Surely she would not wait forever for him. “And how did those go? And with whom?” he asked, curious.

He was braced for the follow up question. Tit for tat, so that’s the game we’re playing huh. Well, that was fine, Gin probably already knew most of it anyway from her so-called-sources. “Well, her name is Lucretia Avery.” Gin could possibly have known her. Lucy and Gin were both slightly younger than him, both nearly the same age, and could possibly have been in the same year at Hogwarts. Of course, Darren had never mentioned Gin to her. But now that Darren thought about it, it was possible Gin had personally known Lucy to some extent. Prior to becoming a werewolf at least, Gin would not have been entirely excluded from pureblood cliques. Half-bloods were looked down upon to some extent, but with so few purebloods left it didn’t make much sense to exclude everyone else entirely. “And…” Darren paused for a second there. Did he really want to hurt Gin unnecessarily? But then again, if she was indeed moving on, perhaps it was better for her to think that he had as well, rather than having regrets or second thoughts.

The truth was that Darren had never been able to summon any level of passion for Lucretia. It had been a comfortable relationship, and Lucy was certainly beautiful with her long dark hair, heavily lidded eyes, and great fashion sense. But when had beauty ever been enough on its own to truly love someone? She had been the exact opposite of Gin, and every moment with her made Darren long for someone more like Gin, who was bolder, fiercer, not afraid of challenging him. Who knew him better than anyone else did. But he was hardly about to admit that. “And it’s been going well,” he lied.

Darren sighed as her tone suddenly became a lot more bitter. He really should not have said that. Did she think he regretted her friendship? His feelings for her? Surely not, but Darren didn’t want to talk about that regardless, in case the conversation moved towards what he actually did regret. He chose to respond to her other remark instead. “You’re right, I don’t know what I want in life. But who does?” he asked philosophically. Certainly, he was lost in the world. But, wasn’t that the case for nearly everyone else as well? People just had work, responsibilities. Darren was both blessed and cursed with inherited wealth. He didn’t have to work, and yet, that just seemed to make his life even more aimless.

Ginevra nodded absently as Darren repeated her words, providing no further information without prompt. If he wanted to play the game of secrets, she could dance along. He was not a frequent flyer in her life anymore. There was no reason that he should be privy to every detail that happened. Gone were the days that she told him everything he maybe wanted to know. If he wanted to know, he would have to ask. At least, this was what she was mentally repeating to herself as she held back letting him know it had not gone wonderfully. ”They went fine.” Not a lie. They had gone fine, they simply had not been world changing. ”One of them was with Matt. Not sure if you would remember him at all, he was in your house.” she continued, clamping her mouth shut as she realized she had slipped back into the more-information-than-needed category so naturally.

Her body froze at the name. That was why the female had looked familiar! Ginevra was aware of the girl he named. She had never befriended the Slytherin, as there had been far too much entitlement bleeding off of her. Ginevra subconsciously started moving her fingers around her spoon again as he continued, the thought of using magic escaping her. Of course he had started to date a pureblood. Of course, the girl he finally committed to was beautiful and looked nothing like her, acted nothing like her. All of this was information she had partially guessed and expected to hear, the actual delivery of facts hurt deeper than she had anticipated. Why was she still a lovesick puppy, unable to accept that they had not been chosen? This was not her. She was stronger than this. She was more than this. Wasn’t she?

”We’ve met.” was all she said in reply, waiting to see if he would continue. It had been months since she had last used her “sources” to check in on Darren, as work had been a much welcomed distraction. Often, after a busy short, she did not have the mental capacity for travel and honestly, snooping where she was not welcome. Today was a prime example of how one second took her back months of diving into a different kind of rush. ”I can only imagine what you love about her.” she replied, trying to sound sincere but not really placing her heart in the delivery. She really could only imagine- pureblood, dark, gorgeous features, raised to know all the finery and proper practices.

The thing was, Ginevra was also raised well-off. Not nearly as wealthy as Darren, but there was not a reason in the world that she had to work to make a living. As much of the class that she could understand in theory, Ginevra had been raised in a vastly different world. She was loud, she was clumsy and she did not care if she met the right people, made the right impressions. Ginevra had always been fiercely independent in making her own path. Darren had been the only person who occasionally made her feel that along with the fiercely independent side, that she could have a slightly addictive personality trait intertwined. Was it possible to be addicted to a person? Because she felt that she had a problem. Why else had she not let go already?

Tilting her chin towards Darren, she made direct eye contact and said, ”I’ve always known.” there was no context added for what area in her life, no information given to allow him to do anything but wonder. The underlying message, to her, was clear. She had always known she wanted him. It felt slightly freeing to say this, even if indirectly. Ginevra knew she was walking the fine line of being told she was an obsessive freak who had to move the hell on but she mentally shrugged it off, as she had grown so adept at doing over time.

Taking a few focused breaths, she was able to slightly calm her emotions just short of making a scene. For now.