cursed

[Arden Patricks]

"No need," I shrug back. "Most likely it wasn't important. I think I remember most important things."
I'm starting to feel very childish, in an I-know-something-you-don't-know sort of way, and wonder if I ought to just mention straight up that, by the way, I figured out a few years ago who the hell it was that helped clear out my head.
The presence of dementors makes you relive your worst memories - even, it seems, the ones that you didn't quite remember.

[Logan Andrews]

"Ah...good." I say, for lack of anything better to say.
I don't see why it really matters what she does or does not remember, but I also feel that I should respond.

[Arden Patricks]

Shrugging yet again, I decide to shut up now because this conversation has been completely pointless anyway.

[Logan Andrews]

I sink down slightly lower in the chair, putting my hands over my face in a brief moment on weary exasperation.
This sort of stopping and starting, going round in circles conversation is sort of getting on my nerves, but I don't know how to fix it.

[Arden Patricks]

I sigh very lightly after a moment, disliking the silence again. "Is this by far the longest we've ever interacted with each other since we were kids, or does it just seem that way because it's so bloody weird?"

[Logan Andrews]

"Second one, I think." I murmur against my hands, interlocking my fingers and dropping my hands back to my lap when I'm finished being exasperated. "Or a mixture of both."

[Arden Patricks]

And that ends that pathetic attempt at conversation, I think, merely nodding when I can't think of anything to say.