[ At the sound of his name, his hands still in her hair, the tangle half-finished. It's an appropriate metaphor, the twisted knot of her hair between his fingers--it feels like him. His emotions, the feelings he can't quite figure out, all jumbled together. It's a fair question, what's she asking. It's the same one he's been asking himself since the knowledge she was lost drove him into action. ]

I don't know [ he admits it quietly, almost guiltily. It's not a romantic declaration by any means, but at least he doesn't stop there. He continues: ] I wasn't lying; when I said I felt the connection between us. When I said I felt connected to you.

[ His fingers start working on the knot in her hair, as if maybe by untangling it he can untangle this thing between them ] You're brilliant. Competent. Capable of such deep emotion and caring. But I look at you and you--you hide that from so many people. I think sometimes you hide it from yourself.

[ One stand falls free and he runs his hand along it, smoothing it down her back ]

I like you. I feel drawn-- to you. My life isn't--uncomplicated [ except the recent terse messages from Carol make him feel like it might be getting less so by the day in some ways ] But I'm starting to realize there are people that it's worth fighting through complications for.

[ the tangle gives up under his attention and he picks up the brush to work over it ] Maybe that sounds stupid.