[ Misato sighs, a frustrated one directed partly at him but mostly at herself. Words are so deficient, she finds, to truly communicate what she means. She trips and stumbles, apologizes for the wrong turns of phrases and unfortunate timing. Like now. Her mind is muted, made small for fear of causing further offense. ]
(Kavinsky, I'm not trying to push you away to make room for her.)
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( Kavinsky, I'm not trying to push you away to make room for her. )