Before she even knew it, he had turned and was walking away from her. She watched him uneven gate, locked in stillness and shock as he retreated without a word. She heard him mumble a scant two syllables, carried on the salt tinged wind as he made his way across the beach. Geneva blinked, once, twice, before she shook her head. Her brows furrowed, her ears flicking back against her head as a buzzing filled her mind.
She was surprised as she felt anger assault her senses in a dizzying wave. It brought her up short for a moment, even as the warm energy coursed through her body. She was frustrated that his first defense or reaction, or whatever, was to run away. Frustrated that she couldn't divine what lay at the core of his sorrow.
She charged down the coast after him, splashing water up around her sides as she went. She came to a halt in front of him, an obstacle in his path. She corralled him in with her body, lime green eyes alight as she looked at him. "I'm sorry if I hurt you," she said, surprised by the edge in her voice. Her eyes widened for a moment, surprised by her own tone, but she shook her head again and looked intensely into his green eye. "You're not going anywhere until you talk to me."