[ so he was right, then. And so was she. That was something bothering him - the thought that she couldn't ever really accept him because of her morals. Perhaps he'd been painting her with too broad a brush. Could someone growing up in a place like Gotham (as she describes it) really adhere to such strict morals when surrounded by the worst of society? After a second or two, he nods his head, though he doesn't meet her gaze. ]
Maybe not.
[ Yet he still feels dissatisfied. Something isn't sitting right. He can't place it; his words get ahead of his thoughts. ]
... If I told you I wanted to kiss you again, what would you say?
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Maybe not.
[ Yet he still feels dissatisfied. Something isn't sitting right. He can't place it; his words get ahead of his thoughts. ]
... If I told you I wanted to kiss you again, what would you say?