Mars can try to make her stay and she probably would; otherwise, she's gonna head outside.
Of course, he had expected her answer. Of course he had, for it was so clear. It didn't ease the awkward air that bubbled up around them. She'd spent so much time wondering about him that she hadn't really taken the time to think of how her interaction with Bartholomew affected Mars; Barty seemed to know everything that went on between the two personalities, but Mars was limited to only what he had as his own memories. Nights spent in the arms of her fantasy lover hadn't reached the mind of his true face. For a moment, she sympathized; she couldn't imagine how difficult it was to deal with the actions of another when they contradicted her own. She was still whole, after all.
He disclosed that it complicated things. Unsure how, she remained silent, watching him with absent curiosity. It wasn't until he denied his affection for another that she took on true expression. Vague betrayal colored her features quickly, and she rose from her seat. "Don' lie to me, Mars. Bartholomew told me about her. 'm not stupid; I remember everything you two tell me." He had friends, but didn't like anyone, and as honest as he appeared, she was incapable of believing him. Even a man who had no desire for physical companionship was capable of feeling adoration for another. Jealousy welled up in her chest, arms crossing beneath her breasts. "He told me you left another pack for her. I don' care what friends you have, Mars. I know she's not just your friend."
Her voice lowered, twisting into something soft and depressed, as if she were a little girl who had watched her puppy be kicked. She was incapable of truly being upset about the who incident; in the end, she believed Mars would understand and be willing to stay with her. It didn't stop the first signs of tears as they came and went from her eyes. She ignored his comment about the goat, gathering what dishes she had brought into the workroom. "Think I need air, Mars. 'm gonna step outside." A simple, courteous warning that she planned to leave the room; in truth, she expected that she'd go for a walk, and think about where she wanted to be in the next months of her life.
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