When Irene's eyes met hers, it was all Amaya could do but practically stare right back, somewhat locked into them and actually glad for it, because locking into her gaze allowed her to hold onto something tightly and firmly to keep from completely spinning out in this tumultuous swell of both dread and excitement rushing through her.

"So am I," she admitted, and there was a small untangling of one knot that almost felt like relief, although it didn't really do much in the sea of tension that had settled into practically every inch of her, except, perhaps, those fingers still lightly brushing through Irene's hair. "A coward. Afraid. Of...all this. What it is. What it means. What we're supposed to do about it. If anything. Part of me insists that we don't have to do anything, but a...another part of me doesn't want to not do anythi--"

A bit belatedly, she finally managed to cut herself off. "Zards, I'm no good at any of this mushy stuff! Any of these fe--

"Any of these feeeeee--"

Yes, even on Truth Day, she was still going to struggle with certain things. The main difference was that she was going to have no choice but to push right through those struggles.

A slightly wrenching bleeacgh sound pushed out of her.

"Feelings."

Ugh, the word even tasted awful.