[ that isn't true. sure, he probably doesn't want her to die, not in a situation where it would feel like his responsibility; that's the exact sentiment she gambles so much of her survival on, after all. but if it were that simple, she would never have had to struggle so desperately. safety is always, always conditional. somewhere, there is a line, and once she crosses it, even this hand she's holding will turn to violence.

it doesn't matter. all he wants is reassurance—it doesn't need to be true. ]

I understand. I'll keep myself safe. If I can escape, then I won't look back.

[ there is a blank obedience to her tone. her gaze lowers to his hand clasped between her own, and she releases it to instead, gently, link her pinky finger with his. ]

But I'm counting on you to keep me safe too, so... please don't put yourself at risk either.