Charles is truly lost for words for a whole minute, if not longer, and that is not something he finds himself being very often. But the way that Raven flinches away from his touch, now, and throws back the fact that, as much as he might picture it that way, the two of them are not nor will they ever truly be siblings, not in the normal sense. To him, however, she will always be family, no matter what the general rules are in the world, in his heart and in his mind she will always be something more to him.
It hurts, to hear the words, to have the facts that he knows pointed out to him from the one person he never thought could hurt him quite as much as he is right now. But she has every right to do so, and he knows it, but more than that, considering the circumstances, he can't even bring himself to be angry at her for it.
He doesn't try to make another advance towards her, because for as slow as he can be at times he can see how much she seems to be suffocating at the present, and whether intentionally or not this is somehow his fault.
"Raven, please, let's be civil about this. Come home with me, we can talk about this properly and deal with it." Somehow, no matter he says, he doesn't see how she's going to be even remotely convinced by him. He feels a panic building up and working its way through him. "It's late, love, and it's getting rather cold out here. Where on earth are you going to go at this time?"
Their flat isn't that far away, but right now it feels a great distance away, and he knows that if he has to finish the rest of the walk alone it's going to feel ten times worse. "If you're worried that I won't listening to you, hear you out, then I can assure you that I will. You have my word. But please come home before you catch your death out here." The idea of Raven harbouring feelings for him beyond what he himself has always told himself he felt isn't as terrifying as it perhaps ought to be, and that worries him a little. But it doesn't mean anything. Does it? Surely he would have considered it before now if it did. "I can't leave you here to wander the streets alone at night, that would be irresponsible of me, and as much as I believe you capable of taking care of yourself, I sharen't be able to rest knowing that you're out here by yourself."
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It hurts, to hear the words, to have the facts that he knows pointed out to him from the one person he never thought could hurt him quite as much as he is right now. But she has every right to do so, and he knows it, but more than that, considering the circumstances, he can't even bring himself to be angry at her for it.
He doesn't try to make another advance towards her, because for as slow as he can be at times he can see how much she seems to be suffocating at the present, and whether intentionally or not this is somehow his fault.
"Raven, please, let's be civil about this. Come home with me, we can talk about this properly and deal with it." Somehow, no matter he says, he doesn't see how she's going to be even remotely convinced by him. He feels a panic building up and working its way through him. "It's late, love, and it's getting rather cold out here. Where on earth are you going to go at this time?"
Their flat isn't that far away, but right now it feels a great distance away, and he knows that if he has to finish the rest of the walk alone it's going to feel ten times worse. "If you're worried that I won't listening to you, hear you out, then I can assure you that I will. You have my word. But please come home before you catch your death out here." The idea of Raven harbouring feelings for him beyond what he himself has always told himself he felt isn't as terrifying as it perhaps ought to be, and that worries him a little. But it doesn't mean anything. Does it? Surely he would have considered it before now if it did. "I can't leave you here to wander the streets alone at night, that would be irresponsible of me, and as much as I believe you capable of taking care of yourself, I sharen't be able to rest knowing that you're out here by yourself."