Talk To Me || Anna/Ira || Oct. 26
Ira: [The touch of her fingers is all too familiar--the way they curl and twine around his own; how the skin is soft and the touch is tender. His armored heart lets nostalgia trickle in, and he looks down in an attempt to move himself away from it. He doesn't want to deny this. Only Anna would know this. He could never tell another soul about asking the deceased woman about something he feels so broken about, not even Viggo. Ira's lips shift stubbornly while staring at their hands.] You don't know what happened. [His tone isn't cold, and it shows no signs of harshness for anyone but himself.] If you didn't see it, you wouldn't.
Anna: [Ira has worn a tough shell for as long as Anna has known him. Overtime, it must take its toll, especially when he harbors guilt for something. Something she isn't sure if she can't recall or for something she has never known.] I might not... It's a little hazy when I think of what's beyond this life. I remember the prayers, but not much more. [She gives a sympathetic and apologetic smile while she cups their hands with her free one.] I promise you that whatever it is, I won't love you any less.