Even if, by some miracle, someone were to sit down and explain just how utterly normal this situation was, Terra wouldn't be inclined to believe it. She didn't understand most of her emotions to begin with, and the rest were ones she was so utterly bad at identifying, she had convinced herself that she wasn't physically capable of experiencing them.

Denial: one large root to their mutual forest of awkward interactions.

"Uhm..." was a struggle to get out, fingernails scratching at spots of dirt on her palms for something to do. Are you going to spit it out or not? Terra opened her mouth again, glancing his way—but once again balked.

Why was this suddenly so difficult? It wasn't like she wanted to talk about how she died, or Illidan, or how Zelgadis had found her after setting a tornado loose in her apartment, all topics that deserved anxiety. It had every right to be a simple conversation, so why wasn't it?

Maybe it'd be better to ask later? If she needed to ask at all. The answer might present itself without her needing to throw out her questions, and it wasn't like they wouldn't see each other for a long time once they went back. He was still letting her stay with him, after all. That, at least, made some sense in her mind, but this...

Her teeth made a quiet click for closing.