[ what a question. it's silly—despite knowing what's expected of them here, her stomach drops a little, seized momentarily by something a bit like dread; not quite shame, but close to it. she's thankful for the warm grasp of his fingers, and she considers if she should continue to impose on him more than she likely already has. he's been so kind, so generous with his time that even though she knows he has better things to concern himself with than someone like her, she can't help but maintain her hold of his hand anyway. ]

... Could I tell you something?

[ like she hasn't been doing so this whole time. ]

I've never done this before. What this game expects of us, I mean. I'm not sure I... [ she trails off, trying to find the right words, but eventually gives up. she laughs at herself, soft and brief. ] Have you?