Delilah: [She might have chuckled softly at how the conversation had strayed so far, so quick, from what he had intended for it to be if the rest of what he had to say didn’t inspire a level of quietness which was, frankly, not Delilah Duncan’s norm. For once, no easy comeback came to her. No one of statement that demanded to be said, even if it cut into his monologue - no, this was a time where Delilah knew to just let him speak, and she simply lay there, absorbing all he had to say. Each time he paused she feared he was finished and she would have to try work against the sudden dryness in her mouth to say something,anything, to fill the space he left, but each time he began again and each time her heart thumped a little faster. When he was done, the silence stretched. Her mind spun. And when she managed to reply, there was a level of emotion in her voice she very seldom had.] Matt...- no one, no guy I’ve ever dated has ever been as sweet and as good to me as you were and you...- you know, you were a handful sometimes- [She laughed, though it didn’t last long and was replaced instead with a frustrated little sigh, because much like Matt she just couldn’t seem to get her thoughts out there] You were a handful. But, I...- when you weren’t, which was so often, you were a perfect gentleman. You are, I mean. It’s like you walked right out of a fairytale story and - I’ve never been treated the way you treated me. Even though it wasn’t even real. I mean... [There was a pause, again, where Delilah tried to gather herself - she wasn’t used to just blurting things out, and Matthieu had taken her completely by surprise. Alas, it had to end, and quietly, she finished - leaving nothing left unsaid] - I mean... it wasn’t meant to be real, but - for a long time, it felt it. To me, at least. And I, uh... - I wish it had been.
Matthieu: This is where I’m going to play the foreigner card and disregard my years in America. [Again, though he joked, Matt’s voice betrayed him, and the humor was absent. He sounded worn and tired, and nothing like the happy-to-be-alive Matt that so much enjoyed Delilah’s company. It was as though he had been so long without a light in his life that adulthood had begun to sober him to the point of resignation.] So, forgive a pour french soul who does not understand the American ways, but...If it felt real to you, and it surely felt real to me, what does that then make it, but real in all respects that matter?
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