( he wants to be friends! the whiplash she gets from the change of direction from where they were going ─ which was nowhere together, not even as friends ─ to at least friends, is disorienting. )

You wanna be friends. ( she repeats, not entirely sure she can believe what she's heard is what he said. either way she needs to sit down for this. taking a step back she settles onto the sofa again, right on the edge (much like where this conversation is balancing). never once taking her eyes off of him. )

You don't get to do this. ( she starts, voice gentle but there's a sharpness to it from all the hurt she's buried. ) You don't get to string me along like, like some kind of ─ stringy toy! ( she flounders. Yo-Yo. she means a Yo-Yo. do not fill in her blank, Angel. ) Pushing me away when it suits you, and then reeling me back in when you want me. ( she warns. she wants to yell at him ─ to deny him. tell him this isn't how it goes; he doesn't get to pick and choose when and why he comes and goes from her life. doesn't get to break her heart and think she'll pick up the pieces of it again when he decides he can't deny his heart what it wants.

only she doesn't. like him, she's selfish. she wants him, however she can have him. especially after nearly losing him the last time (for her, on Kingman's bluff). and because out of everything she has issue trusting, his declaration of love, isn't something she would question. not ever. she sent him to Hell, for centuries, and he still loved her when he came back to himself. and that's more than enough to try.

after a moment, ) Friends. But you only get the once. After that... ( she has to put herself before him. )