[ In kind, Aerith deflates just as much, shoulders slumping. Still, there's a glimmer of bright stubbornness in her gaze and tone, and she moves in such a way that it's clear her hands would be on her hips if they were free. ]

I'm not some delicate flower you're going to crush, Six. Trouble or not, you're acting like a giant baby. Something's on your mind.

[ Walking toward him, she eagerly shoves herself into his personal bubble, gaze narrowed and suspicious. He wants to wiggle out of her grasp, but Six is in her domain. A knowing sort of smile crosses her expression as quickly as a stone skips across water; she won't let him wiggle away. ]

Is it about the mask? You're not getting it back till you leave. Sorry! I haven't gotten sick of that cute little beauty mark on your face yet.

[ She can't help herself. ]

But, really. [ Leaning back just a bit, she still holds the futon captive in her arms. How she's managing all this without dropping it must be a testament to how much she's carried in recent weeks. ] Talk to me. I can take it.