But you're already lurking in the doorway and making me feel so secure. Why bother.

[She does need space. That is so true that it hurts, kind of, in that deep down fuck-you from anxiety kind of way. And the best way to deal with that is to turn it outwards, get a hand around the feeling and use it like a weapon.

Trouble is, the mental impression beamed back at her is one of immobility. Unmoved, is the word for it. Darlene keeps unwrapping anyways.]

Want to give me a ride out there, Protip? Or is this just for my future reference?