She doesn't know what to say. Seeing what he added to her memory, her time, and she wonders what it means really. The colors mean something, she thinks, something more than just what they are, because the color form something that is more than just the small shapes of each pull of the hue. It's odd, in a way, because the world is colored in such vibrancy and light when he paints in the things around them.

Gold heart and gold hands and stars above and she doesn't know what to say, not even when he speaks. Her eyes don't lift from the floor, because she doesn't want to do this. She doesn't want to try again and she doesn't want to do this out of some sheer stubbornness. Maybe it's because Terezi made this happen--or because Terezi couldn't leave it alone. Or maybe she just doesn't know what she wants out of this.

In another lifetime they were close, very close, but how close is too close and how close makes things fracture all the way into another life. Her breath catches when his hand reaches close, over, when he talks about debt to paid and understanding.

Her fingers touch in the space between them and she doesn't look at Terezi because this feels more private and initimate and for all she feels for Terezi, she doesn't want to be congratulated for this. She doesn't want teasing when this is done, when whatever this is is done. It feels too fragile, if anything, to subject to someone else's gaze.

Warm blood on her fingertips and his palm beneath that. She lifts her fingers, letting it drip and pool in the cup of his hand and she finally speaks.

"Did you want mine?" She doesn't know what is expected or needed in this, what he wants from her, beyond the trust to try. To try something.