[ Who had he been talking to? What was he hearing? Collette watches hum as he sinks down, eyes flicking from his mouth to the eyes of his mask, and then his own beyond as best she can. The mask itself makes it an awkward proposition.

Her throat tightens, fingers weaving together and fidgeting in her lap. Her voice is small and soft as she answers. ]

No.

[ It's surprising how much admitting that hurts. Collette blinks rapidly, willing herself not to cry. It'd be his right to hate her for having lied like this to him, and she knows it. Something else she's messed up because the lie was brighter than the reality. ]

I wish I had, but I'm pretty sure this is the only place I'll ever be.

[ She glances down, feeling she's losing a battle with her own tear ducts. It's embarrassing and annoying. ]

I'm sorry. I thought if I said yes, and you were so happy, and no one ever is, and -- and you probably know a better me than the me here.

[ Her voice is tight, small, and miserable. Staring down at her own hands, she doesn't feel brave enough to look up and find signs of rejection and censure that she feels she deserves. She's lied to someone who is -- or would have been -- a friend. And she let him believe something not true.

Undeniably selfish of her, but knowing that truth doesn't stop her chest from constricting, or the tears she's crying from falling down off her face into her lap.

Hopefully he gets angry and leaves soon, or gets disappointed and leaves so she's not left being double atrocious with a snotty nose and red eyes. She was already sweaty. This would help her hit the trifecta of "do not want in my backyard," she's pretty sure. ]