She lowers her hand from his face to his side. "I don't know either. I don't know if it's being done on purpose or not." If it is, it's awfully cruel. She hates not knowing.

So, okay, this means she needs to talk about what happened when he was here before. She shifts, folding her knees up under herself, so that she's facing him a little better and sitting cross-legged. She pauses.

...Fuck. She doesn't know where to start. She's never been the best story-teller. She just drops in the biggest pieces of the puzzle and leaves the little details behind. That's just her way. So when she thinks about what she ought to tell him, it's the high points that gain her attention.

"The first time we fucked we were both stoned and I was drunk," is what she decides to lead with. "We were both really chill with each other, but...I don't think it really meant anything." It didn't to her, not really. She shakes her head a little. "We...didn't really connect until later. I think we were both avoiding it." Or, that's what she tells herself, that the avoidance was coming from both sides. He'd left that night willingly enough, anyway, when she'd sent him away. She still has her hand resting on his side and she grasps at him a little with her fingertips. "We hung out around the ship but that's all we did after that, for a while. But it was, you know, nice. We were getting to know each other again." She pauses, and smiles slightly at another memory that comes to mind. "Though you did get me a lame Valentine's present. Library books and candy." She pokes him in the side with her fingers. "And I know it was you."