Old, withered, gnarly character, huh? You say the sweetest things.
[Flynn isn't the awkward young man anymore that stumbles over his words or doesn't know where to put his hands or paints flowers on a rock to bring on a date because there's no actual flowers in Norfinbury.
... Well, fine. Maybe he'd still paint a rock.
There's a longer pause where he ducks his head, some of the old shyness breaking through. When he speaks again his grumpy voice has lost most of its rough edge.]
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[Flynn isn't the awkward young man anymore that stumbles over his words or doesn't know where to put his hands or paints flowers on a rock to bring on a date because there's no actual flowers in Norfinbury.
... Well, fine. Maybe he'd still paint a rock.
There's a longer pause where he ducks his head, some of the old shyness breaking through. When he speaks again his grumpy voice has lost most of its rough edge.]
I would... I'd like that.
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Me too.
[But she basically already said that, didn't she?]
There's nothing better on a hard, cold night than some good company. I hope I can still provide that much.
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[He runs his hand over his face, trying to hide the beginnings of a smile that threaten to break through.]
Now that I am sure of.