Shouldn't I get a say in that? [She's chiding but soft, the way one would remind a child of his manners. This is what worries her more than anything; he's shutting her out completely, to keep her safe. Cameron likes that he calls during the bad curses, that he'll walk her home if it's late-- even if it takes him out of his way, even if she tells him he doesn't have to. She even appreciates the sentiment that drives him to nag her about finding someone for that second bedroom, though not enough to give in. But this is different; some wild extreme, his idea of what's best for her blurred by a selfish self-hatred. No wonder she's worried. No wonder she's finding it hard to trust him, since she doubts he's told her older self even this much.]
I won't like it, [she agrees, leaning back against him, her cheek against his hair.]
[once fate put us in the same room, when you knew not of me nor I of you]
I won't like it, [she agrees, leaning back against him, her cheek against his hair.]