He moved with her, keeping his eyes locked on hers. As long as he could see her, and only her, he could make it. Not the room where he collapsed, not the world where he was trapped, just her.
A romantic notion, he figured, but, still. She was what was keeping him from falling, from giving up, from stopping fighting. They were sharks who nudged each other on, to make sure they kept swimming.
And there it was. That strange notion to tell her he loved her. He was pretty sure, especially now, that he did. It wasn't an emotion he was used to feeling, not a sensation he was used to experiencing, but from his memories on the subject, he was pretty sure he was in love with Madame de Pompadour.
"I-I'm sorry," he murmured, though he wasn't entirely sure for what. There was such a long list of things to apologize for, not the least of which was sweating and crying all over her dress.
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A romantic notion, he figured, but, still. She was what was keeping him from falling, from giving up, from stopping fighting. They were sharks who nudged each other on, to make sure they kept swimming.
And there it was. That strange notion to tell her he loved her. He was pretty sure, especially now, that he did. It wasn't an emotion he was used to feeling, not a sensation he was used to experiencing, but from his memories on the subject, he was pretty sure he was in love with Madame de Pompadour.
"I-I'm sorry," he murmured, though he wasn't entirely sure for what. There was such a long list of things to apologize for, not the least of which was sweating and crying all over her dress.