"It's not something you can stop," he said in lieu of a yes or no. She already knew the answer, and he wasn't going to lie about it. What was the point in lying?
Dammit. If there was one thing Bella was skilled at, it was always being able to turn his arguments against him. The worst part was that there was no disagreeing with what she was saying. Even if he tried, she would just shoot down every objection - he wondered briefly if she got that ability from her mother. She had to. Charlie may have been the chief of police, but Edward had seen him fumble in personal conversations more than once. Perhaps he was better skilled at it in a public setting, in dialogue that was not to his immediate family.
Though he nodded at her order, he didn't move from his spot on the floor, neatly crossing his legs under him. There wasn't much pain unless he shifted his upper torso, luckily - and there was a spare brush just within his reach, pushed off to the side beside a soapy bucket. He plucked the brush off the floor with his free arm, dipping it in the water and bringing it to the ground. He bent over it as if he were really working at the floor, but it was just so he could bend his head closer to Bella's. He had noted the ring was gone from her hands - her bandaged, small hands - but he didn't care. It probably wasn't even the real ring, and it meant nothing to him in comparison to the girl that wore it.
"Please don't cry." He watched her, his hand moving the brush back and forth against the tile. "I'm more than glad to share your misery with you, so the burden is not so heavy." He smiled; not close enough to reach his eyes, but it was a good attempt. "Besides, I think your hat is very cute."
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Dammit. If there was one thing Bella was skilled at, it was always being able to turn his arguments against him. The worst part was that there was no disagreeing with what she was saying. Even if he tried, she would just shoot down every objection - he wondered briefly if she got that ability from her mother. She had to. Charlie may have been the chief of police, but Edward had seen him fumble in personal conversations more than once. Perhaps he was better skilled at it in a public setting, in dialogue that was not to his immediate family.
Though he nodded at her order, he didn't move from his spot on the floor, neatly crossing his legs under him. There wasn't much pain unless he shifted his upper torso, luckily - and there was a spare brush just within his reach, pushed off to the side beside a soapy bucket. He plucked the brush off the floor with his free arm, dipping it in the water and bringing it to the ground. He bent over it as if he were really working at the floor, but it was just so he could bend his head closer to Bella's. He had noted the ring was gone from her hands - her bandaged, small hands - but he didn't care. It probably wasn't even the real ring, and it meant nothing to him in comparison to the girl that wore it.
"Please don't cry." He watched her, his hand moving the brush back and forth against the tile. "I'm more than glad to share your misery with you, so the burden is not so heavy." He smiled; not close enough to reach his eyes, but it was a good attempt. "Besides, I think your hat is very cute."