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Something was very wrong in the way that she came towards him. The uneasiness in the room seemed to have trebled in a very short space of time. Still - he couldn't help but hope, and that hope almost rocketed through the roof as she came right up and brought his arms around her. This was going better than he'd thought! Had he finally fixed things? Did she feel confidence in him now...? His wide eye tried to meet hers, but she kept them downcast at all times. No. There was something wrong here. He soon realised exactly what, when the guiding hand forced his against the clasp of her bra.

He released her sharply, equal parts shock and confusion. Hadn't she been listening to a word he'd said? Was this some kind of test?

Or was it what she really wanted?

No, it couldn't be - not after all this time and fuss. But... if it was, and he'd been led up the garden path...

A knot was balling itself up in his stomach. Jessie wavered: face a picture of hurt; arms limp at his sides. Sickly, he appreciated that maybe he should've come to expect this. As earlier, he suddenly thought of how he was being... so naive about the whole thing. Blindly, blindly opening himself, thoughtlessly giving her everything – the possessions were not of importance, but the pure love and devotion that went with them were. All of his years, and still little Coline seemed to have a better handle on the way things really were than him.

Why... why did it have to be this way, with her?

Rocking forward, he planted a kiss on the top of her head. With a voice that conveyed all of the shock and deep disturb, he hesitantly gave her an audible answer to her silent questioning. ”I'm sorry, but... no means no.”

Jessie then turned with grace that was almost languid in its dignity, opening the protesting door and making for the stairs.

Maybe the better question was how he could have expected anything different.

He'd always tried to forget, to gloss over the fact that wherever he went, women and men seemed to... want him. To possess him, to take him, to say that they had conquered him. He took all the propositions in his stride, fending them off like little more than pesky moths. He'd learned to disconnect himself from it - from them. He'd had to, from his very first time. But then, look at all the pain just trying to forget had caused him! He couldn't please, could he?

With a frustrated sigh, Jessie stopped at the top of the stairs, shifting his weight to lean against the wall. He could still hear the rain pounding - eternally pounding, grinding his progress to a halt. Then again, he hadn't planned to leave. He wasn't sure what he was doing. Although stewing in thoughts of a few complicated decades might not have been the best idea, it was all he felt he could do.

It was all his own stupid fault, of course. How could he have flipped like that the week before?! So many years - decades in which he'd felt nothing of the sort for anyone - all of his discipline, disintegrating all at once. How foolish. How stupid. He couldn't blame Coline for how she felt (if she felt it, which he thought she might - but after that, maybe not). God knew he'd... he'd... he knew how it felt.

The clatter of the tray brought his head sharply to the left. The knot in his stomach tightened again as she called out to him. He wouldn't run away from her, of course. Her actions didn't merit that, from his experience. Still, why shouldn't he? If all she'd done was use him, he had every right to...

Something about the slump of her shoulders and the breathiness in her voice caught his attention, and he scrutinised her piercingly while she pleaded with him, her eyes downcast and unseeing. He took a few steps towards her and, as she finished, reached out to take hold of the tray. His reply was quiet and clipped... yet he realised, with concern, what this might mean. Perhaps her weariness was just getting the better of her mind.

"You're exhausted. Go to bed."

"I've already slept, sweetheart. Don't you recall?" he pressed gently, finally wresting the tray from her grip. Now there was the task of turning her around without calamity. He began by turning himself around, momentarily releasing her and shifting the tray to his other hand, the opposite now coming back to her.

With a combined effort, they managed to manoeuvre her around into an about-face. "There we are, now - there's a good girl," he whispered encouragingly, arm now wrapped back firmly around her waist. If she fainted - which, he had to keep in mind, she might - she'd be secure, not able to slip more than a couple of inches.

And so, looking rather like a waiter attempting to shift a drunk patron with the tray balanced in Jessie's right hand, they reascended the stairs. It was thankfully a short trip, but nonetheless very slow and shaky. The walk of a couple of yards to her room went much better, as Coline proved she was still capable of walking quite respectably. The tray had been set down on the floor at the top of the stairs, and so Jessie was now free to hold her much more efficiently.

As the immediate concern for her safety worked itelf away, they were left in a thoughtful silence.

"You know I'd never dream of hurting you," he whispered into her ear as they neared the door. It wasn't a question... it was more like a gentle reassurance - a softly spoken, undeniable fact.