<style type="text/css">
.dump8 b {font-weight:bold; color:#1c1721; letter-spacing:1px; }
.ooc { font-style:italic; padding:0px; font-family:verdana, sans-serif; font-size:10px;}
.dump8 p {text-indent:25px;padding:5px 10px;margin:0px;}
.dump8 {width:400px;border:1px solid #2e2c39;background-image:url(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v26/K ... edump8.png);background-position:bottom center;background-repeat:no-repeat;padding-bottom:135px;background-color:#59557e;text-align:justify;margin:10px;font-family:tahoma, sans-serif;font-size:11px;line-height:12px;color:#2e2c39;}
</style>
She was struggling with this, seemingly as much as he was. The one difference was that she had some sort of answer. There was something that she knew that she had not been able to tell him, and even now she was not able to do so. There was one, very small part of the man that was annoyed, maybe even angry about this. Here he had been losing his mind for the past few days and she was keeping something from him. Whatever of that notion was inside of him though was overwhelmed by seeing her so upset. Then she said she wasn't trying to hurt him. Nayati believed her when she said that, but of course the fact of the matter was that she had, even unintentionally. But she didn't know everything he was going through. She couldn't be blamed for that.
Until now Nayati had been conscious of leaving her space, assuming that she didn't want him near her. Even when she began to get more and more upset he had held himself in check, but now seeing her eyes clamped shut his caring and protective instincts won out over caution. Slowly, carefully, the man scooted towards her. Tentatively he put a hand out, lightly placing it on her shoulder. "What is it Liliana? Please, tell me. I don't care what it is, just please let me know." For the sake of their friendship she couldn't keep whatever this was from him anymore. It clearly was driving them apart, and it didn't seem that she wanted that any more than he did.