Why tenderness, though? It looked as if he wanted to leave Buffy's side and pull me into his arms, to stroke my hair like he'd been doing to her, only with more gentleness and care, as if being afraid of breaking me. But much more than a wish, it was a need. Suddenly it wasn't as thin as before. It had thickened. Why? I wondered once more. He'd never shown anything more than contempt, indifference, or boredom when he'd been around me. Yes, there was the occasional banter and taunt spiking between us, which sometimes brought more lightness to the atmosphere and sometimes more tension (fully packed with hatred). Not to mention those studious looks of his were just a way of trying to decipher my psyche for his peace of mind-and ego. Once he could look through the walls enclosing my inner-self
