It is always just a dream
Still, I cannot forget what I have seen
The crowd's hard to believe
At their faces I'm looking
But, your feet I'm following
In soft steps on a path the way you lead

I don't want to lose myself
It's a whisper
It's a funny thing
We fold like icicles on paper shelves
It's a pity to appear this way

She pointed at him, her fingertip aimed in the direction of his face's center. "You do whatever-the-hell you want with your 'world'," said the Maverick, gritting her teeth a bit from behind closed lips. "Just stay the hell out of mine." Subsequent to that bark, the scarlet-haired woman lowered her hand and turned away from him, her feet beginning to raise and move forward as she started for the doorway.

He resisted the normal reflex that would have had him knocking her hand out of the way the second it invaded his space, but couldn't stop himself from trying to detain her when she made to leave. He turned with a speed he hadn't felt capable of displaying all day, and grabbed for her wrist. "How many times are you going to try to walk away from me?" he hissed, tone lowered to what had often proven to be a dangerous level.

Impulsively, she jerked away from him, although unsuccessful in regards to escaping his grasp. So, there she remained in his hold, ceasing in her departing footsteps as she turned her head in his direction. A look that consisted of frustration, anger, and even perhaps a bit of sadness took over her face as she gawked at him. She stepped toward him, leaving little, but some distance between her face and his as she lifted her chin, locking eyes with him. "How many times are you going to hold on to something you know you can't have?" the woman hissed back, her own tone lowered, as well, to match his. Her question possessed multiple meanings, not actually intending to hurt him, but it would seem that the scarlet-haired femme was going to let him take that as he would. She clenched her teeth and her lips quivered minimally.

He seethed, but luckily didn't have the strength or desire to do any damage as he held on to her. Further, the reaction he'd witnessed hurt him more than anything she might've said, and more than he would ever admit to. "As long as it takes," he said before he was aware that he'd made the decision. "As long as you keep running, and hiding, and putting up all your little defenses. Move, get married, send me away ... It might take me a little while to catch up, but I will. Sooner or later, I will." He stopped speaking only to stare longingly at the quivering of her lips, then dropped her wrist and started on his own path toward the door without another word.

And, just like that, just as suddenly as it had ended, it began again. What 'it' was, exactly, the redhead knew not, and whether l'homme found himself similarly confounded remained, for the time being, unbeknown to her. Quite a lot had taken place over the course of a year. Just when the Maverick had settled into the cosy conclusion that all the pieces of her puzzle-like world had finally come together, therein came a rift that, in the form of a contemporary Casanova, rendered her reasonably disoriented and flustered. So, to whom could the twenty-something-year-old turn in her predicament? The answer was simple.

"..An' yer sure 'e didn't show up on purpose?" her mother asked with a furrowed brow. The circumstances seemed too questionable for the woman not to.. well.. question.
"He didn't," she replied. "Why would he intentionally get himself arrested?" the psychologist asked, a chuckle laced between her words.
"Well, y'never know, Katie. But, that's not what I meant, and y'know it. Are y'sure 'e didn't show up to New York for you?"
She paused, considering her mother's query for a few moments, silence consuming the line whilst she contemplated as to the likelihood of that concept. "I'm sure," the woman asserted. "As dodgy as it all seems, I.." She began to shake her head. "Trust me." Cue snicker. "It's just coincidence."
Her mother was silent, forming a silent opinion about her daughter's response before inquiring, "Do y'love 'im?"
It had caught the Maverick by such surprise that, at first, she was not entirely sure that she had heard her mother correctly. "Do I love him?" she said, reposing the question as a baffled, yet contemplative expression settled upon her youthful visage.
"Aye, Katie," her mother affirmed with a few nods of her head. "Do you. Love him," she repeated herself, drawing the phrase out as she waited upon a reply.
The daughter's jaw dropped, her lower lip quivering to a small degree, and for only a few moments, as she attempted to form what words could have aided in the provision of some sort of feedback. "I, um.." she began, lowering her eyes just before hearing Bear (her Terrier-Schnauzer) bark clamorously. Julian was home. "Ma, I'll have to call you back. Julian just got home."
Her mother snickered to herself. "All right. I love ya. Take care o' yerself."
"Always. Love you, too. Talk to you later."

-CLICK-