There it is again, that vital sensation. She needs to be here. She's not sure why-- something on his face, his expression, has captured her. It's not that he's attractive-- he's objectively fine but she isn't into people who radiate a potential disdain for anyone who hasn't read the complete works of Jane Austen-- it's that he has potential. Potential for what, she doesn't know.

(A part of her wants to run very far away.)

"It was like- like nothing mattered. I could see myself doing stuff, I made choices, but I didn't care. Have you ever got the wind knocked out of you, and for a second everything feels all distant? It was like that, but it didn't hurt. Everything was just far away." This is too earnest. She snaps her fingers, breaking the spell. "Slept like a baby, though."