She came off too strong, that's the problem, but there's no undoing it. And it's not the only problem; there are plenty of other ones that have occurred to her. If they weren't standing in an animal shelter, under the constant threat of interruption, she might even list them off, just to demonstrate that she doesn't need anyone else's help when it comes to thinking about all this. But it's a miserable list, and whether airing it brought her any grim satisfaction or not, it definitely wouldn't bring her any cheer.
She could say that what she ought to have is beside the point. She's still living on borrowed time, still struggling to find a balance between salvaging what happiness she can without stockpiling sorrow for the future -- for herself or anyone else she might leave here. She could point out that this isn't anything like Demelza and Ross and their comparatively charmed life: she and Sam are from different worlds, and if Darrow parts them, that's it. There won't be any inevitable reunions waiting for them. They don't belong together. She could go on about how worried she is that she's already made things difficult or uncomfortable (god, she still can't believe she just fell asleep on him), and that he was just too kind and polite to kick her while she was already down.
Honestly, she'll consider it a miracle if they can just hold on to what they've got. She won't risk ruining it over whatever silly, romantic notion Demelza's peddling.
She stares right through the form for a few moments, furiously blinking her vision back into focus. She is not going to start crying, god, she was so happy to be done doing that all the time. It's more frustration than sorrow, as if she's been backed into a corner with no easy way out. What does Demelza honestly expect her to do?
"I don't know," she says tersely. She sets down the pen for a moment, burying her face in her hands with a gusty sigh. "Maybe I shouldn't call him. I suppose it would seem rather... presumptuous." They haven't really cut back on the time they've been spending together (even if they'd tried, she suspects Jordan would have had something to say about it). But still, maybe it's too much to even imply that of course they'd be seeing so much of whatever dog she gets for herself.
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She could say that what she ought to have is beside the point. She's still living on borrowed time, still struggling to find a balance between salvaging what happiness she can without stockpiling sorrow for the future -- for herself or anyone else she might leave here. She could point out that this isn't anything like Demelza and Ross and their comparatively charmed life: she and Sam are from different worlds, and if Darrow parts them, that's it. There won't be any inevitable reunions waiting for them. They don't belong together. She could go on about how worried she is that she's already made things difficult or uncomfortable (god, she still can't believe she just fell asleep on him), and that he was just too kind and polite to kick her while she was already down.
Honestly, she'll consider it a miracle if they can just hold on to what they've got. She won't risk ruining it over whatever silly, romantic notion Demelza's peddling.
She stares right through the form for a few moments, furiously blinking her vision back into focus. She is not going to start crying, god, she was so happy to be done doing that all the time. It's more frustration than sorrow, as if she's been backed into a corner with no easy way out. What does Demelza honestly expect her to do?
"I don't know," she says tersely. She sets down the pen for a moment, burying her face in her hands with a gusty sigh. "Maybe I shouldn't call him. I suppose it would seem rather... presumptuous." They haven't really cut back on the time they've been spending together (even if they'd tried, she suspects Jordan would have had something to say about it). But still, maybe it's too much to even imply that of course they'd be seeing so much of whatever dog she gets for herself.