In the worst moments, it is difficult to recall — let alone appreciate — any of the good. The dark has a way of overshadowing all the rest, and try though it might, light so rarely manages to penetrate the darkness in time. The cruel and harsh imbalance is that good never seems to strike with the force that dark does, Anabelle would know; she has always done her best to spread joy where she can, but it isn't easy, not as easy as it is to succumb to suffering. But as with all things, there are exceptions, and most often she experiences those bright and powerful bursts of happiness in the arms of one Elvis Moreau. Despite the reason for it, she revels in his embrace, her own arms shaking around to pull him closer, hold him tighter. "I won't," she reassures him, shaking her head against the crook of his neck. "I won't," she repeats, promises, her voice soft but steady. Distracted enough that she fails to process the last of his words and the implications therein, she instead takes this opportunity to respond to that message, bewildered that it has taken her so long. "I love you too, you know."