Although their lives had crisscrossed many times in many ways, there was far more to Ahren that was well beyond the D'Angelo girl's reach than within. And no matter her whimsical, romantic nature, this was a fact that had always been very present, from their first encounter in the now-ruined city over the mountains. There was mystery and magic, both good and bad, in the spaces between them, tangible and respected. His story was followed without hesitation or doubt, to search for meaning in the shards of sense that he spat out.
The cough threw her hand from his body and drew her up to her knees, braced for an action that she wasn't even close to being certain of. His breath picked up, and his voice followed the ragged ride, dragging his body in the wake. Her immediate urge in the face of his panic (legitimate or not) was to unbind his wrists, offer him a small hint of freedom in his cornered state. But Laurel's caution pointed a heavy hand at whatever thin stream of logic managed to flow through her thoughts in these moments.
"Hey, hey," she whispered soothingly, crawling closer to him and allowing the shed door to slump to a close, further darkening the scene. "No one else is here," she continued softly. "Just you and me," her voice grew with gentle certainty with wide, earnest eyes that danced over his face, trying to catch his gaze.
