[ His throat works as he swallows, feeling strangely fragile, strangely moved by that small detail: that there was a trial, that someone who had attempted violence after being pushed into it wasn't simply discarded. He thinks again of Victoria, then pushes the memory away as he feels gentle lips brushing over his hand. ]
I'm glad.
[ For those few words that reminded him that justice is still possible in the world, for her kiss, for the care she's taking with him. Her goodness is a balm he's not sure he deserves.
He rolls his head on the pillow to look at her, his face bruised and puffy in place, but his gaze serious and steady. He wets his lip, tries to find words for everything he wants to say to her, everything he wishes he could tell her. ]
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I'm glad.
[ For those few words that reminded him that justice is still possible in the world, for her kiss, for the care she's taking with him. Her goodness is a balm he's not sure he deserves.
He rolls his head on the pillow to look at her, his face bruised and puffy in place, but his gaze serious and steady. He wets his lip, tries to find words for everything he wants to say to her, everything he wishes he could tell her. ]
That was a good story.