[His sigh this time is harder, more frustrated. He rubs the palm of his hand over his eye, his forehead, up into his hair.]
— I didn’t fake it.
[His voice is soft, but to him, it feels like a shout. She doesn’t believe any of this. There is a way to get her to believe what he’s just said, it’s true, but he doesn’t want to do it.
Why should anyone believe him? Why should a miracle happen to him, why should it have saved him? He is no prince, let alone a promised one.]
no subject
— I didn’t fake it.
[His voice is soft, but to him, it feels like a shout. She doesn’t believe any of this. There is a way to get her to believe what he’s just said, it’s true, but he doesn’t want to do it.
Why should anyone believe him? Why should a miracle happen to him, why should it have saved him? He is no prince, let alone a promised one.]