[ Her expression changes, like every sentiment in Nick's words is felt as her own, ever talented at finding veins that connect with the ones from her past. There's a life she can't go back to, a family she's all but cut herself off from, all for a wish she can't remember making. It's selfish to compare, annoying to suggest there's always some way to fix things; it may be the kind thing to say, but it's also something cruel to lie about.
Cellar wraps her arms around him, one across his chest, squeezing with her shoulders inched up. Nick talks about throwing a party and makes it sound like a lonely affair. (She should probably stop projecting.) The bottle is hers again, but it'll have to wait, carefully balanced on her lap and against her stomach. ]
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Cellar wraps her arms around him, one across his chest, squeezing with her shoulders inched up. Nick talks about throwing a party and makes it sound like a lonely affair. (She should probably stop projecting.) The bottle is hers again, but it'll have to wait, carefully balanced on her lap and against her stomach. ]
Go back to work. That's all I can do.