She doesn’t stop him from taking back his hand. Hers both go back into her jacket pockets. Nothing would’ve come from that, or that was what Lucy assumed. “No, you’re right,” was her murmured response. “It would definitely make things easier. Not that it was ever easy, in Abstergo and outside of it.” Here, anywhere.

Mixed signals were, right now, Lucy’s jam. Apparently. Clearly she wasn’t making this any easier on herself, either.

“I’m...” —what? What was she? That was the frustrating part—she was there, he was there, they had this history between them. She needed to work that out and stop being so frustrated, so full of uncertainty. “I’m sorry, for one, that we just keep going around and around in circles when it comes down to this. I think I’m—afraid,” she was able to get out, after a pause. She grimaced at how that sounded. “I’m afraid, Desmond.”

The idea of a date was... It was an interesting one. Cripes, when was the last time she’d been on a date, or even had the time?

“...a date? I mean, we can do that anytime. I’d... like that, actually. A date is doable. But starting from the beginning?” Lucy shook her head and was the one this time to reach out, her hand at his forearm. “I don’t think that’s possible, with our past.”