She looked almost scared, not quite meeting his gaze. She tucked her hair behind her ear. "Maybe I should go downstairs..."
"No," she said, shaking her head as she stood up. "It's alright. I won't be sleeping anyway. Stay here."
She paused at the door, looking back at him and just looking terribly sad. "It's not you, Francis," she said tiredly. "It's just my *squee!*ed up head."
She studied him, her gaze drifting over his hand as if checking for something before she approached him nervously, entering his embrace.
She was tense in his arms, but she nodded, burying her face in his chest, her arms wrapping around his neck.
His response seemed to hurt her, although she seemed to understand. She nodded slightly and left the room, heading down the stairs.
Poppy was lying on the couch, her eyes closed. She seemed partly asleep, but her brows were furrowed and she shifted, shivering in the cold of the room.
