[And to him, it's simple fact: Rose is Rose, whatever form she takes, and he loves her the same either way.
Physical affection being essentially mother's milk to him, he doesn't find the sudden embrace awkward at all. Rather, he leans into her embrace eagerly, his arms slipping around her in turn as he all but purrs in statisfaction.
He's not aware of her thoughts, of course - but if he were, he might have to reiterate his point about it being his decision, what he is or isn't worthy of. His choice, and by now he can admit (if only to himself) that he'd pick her over and over again, every time.)] I love you, too.
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Physical affection being essentially mother's milk to him, he doesn't find the sudden embrace awkward at all. Rather, he leans into her embrace eagerly, his arms slipping around her in turn as he all but purrs in statisfaction.
He's not aware of her thoughts, of course - but if he were, he might have to reiterate his point about it being his decision, what he is or isn't worthy of. His choice, and by now he can admit (if only to himself) that he'd pick her over and over again, every time.)] I love you, too.