She doesn't speak, even when he finally asks her a question, even as he collapses back onto her couch. Slowly, she approaches him again, sits directly in front of him on the coffee table, their knees knocking against each other. With careful hands, she reaches out to smooth down his hair first, as she tries to organize her thoughts.

"Monty. I used to... I used to be afraid of people like you. Not- not to say that you're a bad person, but... I used to be afraid of the guys who were on track to drop out of school and... I don't know, start a motorcycle gang or something. Those are the people who I used to have nightmares about and things like that. And- I don't know if you realize it, but... you changed that. And that was a big thing for me."

She takes a little breath, pulls her hands away to clasp them loosely in her lap. "And... I'm not exactly the best woman either. I'm... I mean, I'm childish, I ramble, I'm... far too much of a romantic. I'm... trying to get over it, but I'm insecure." Her lips twist ruefully as she looks up at him.

"But... I think I'm pretty secure about this. So... if you'd like to... then I'd like to spend less than forever with you." She's still absolutely serious, but. There's a familiar shyness to the way she holds her hands out to him.