Eponine smiles a little, at the quick fierce loyalty of the response. It feels a little biased, but Rosie knows her, and she thinks she'd be candid. The second part of it makes her feel a little better about that, the admission that yes, Eponine is a little bit different than everyone.
She'd tried to ask the question gently, and now as Rosie glances up from her tea she takes a sip of her own, purposefully not looking too expecting. She's surprised, and not surprised, in equal measure, at what ends up admitted.
She realizes, belatedly, that she's been thinking of them a bit as girlfriends for a while, too, even though she was barely aware of it herself. She doesn't actually know the particulars of the whole arrangement, especially now Nick's gone, and she's never had to work out titles with more than one person or even figure out how all that would work -- though it wasn't by any means uncommon even back home. And she's not even sure what she means by it. It's just that because she doesn't know, and all she has to go on is the soft touches and time spent together that she sees, it's safer in her mind to presume an attachment than not to.
"Oh, that is a lot," she says in genuine sympathy. "That's -- ugh. It gets all tangled with not wanting to hurt someone you care for, but you -- can't just be someone's girlfriend because they decide you are." It sounds like a horrifying prospect, stated like that, but that's what it is, if Rosie doesn't say anything, isn't it? She tips her head.
"Do you mean because you don't -- feel romantically about her at all, or because you don't want it to be as serious as that? As much, like you were saying?"
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She'd tried to ask the question gently, and now as Rosie glances up from her tea she takes a sip of her own, purposefully not looking too expecting. She's surprised, and not surprised, in equal measure, at what ends up admitted.
She realizes, belatedly, that she's been thinking of them a bit as girlfriends for a while, too, even though she was barely aware of it herself. She doesn't actually know the particulars of the whole arrangement, especially now Nick's gone, and she's never had to work out titles with more than one person or even figure out how all that would work -- though it wasn't by any means uncommon even back home. And she's not even sure what she means by it. It's just that because she doesn't know, and all she has to go on is the soft touches and time spent together that she sees, it's safer in her mind to presume an attachment than not to.
"Oh, that is a lot," she says in genuine sympathy. "That's -- ugh. It gets all tangled with not wanting to hurt someone you care for, but you -- can't just be someone's girlfriend because they decide you are." It sounds like a horrifying prospect, stated like that, but that's what it is, if Rosie doesn't say anything, isn't it? She tips her head.
"Do you mean because you don't -- feel romantically about her at all, or because you don't want it to be as serious as that? As much, like you were saying?"