[They must look...terrible. For all their efforts to seem somewhat presentable, they've still failed in some fundamental fashion. Twitching, pulling down the hem of their sweater, tiny adjustments of the stitches and threads of their sleeves, long since stretched and distended and mistreated into shapelessness.]
[She opens her arms at once. They shrink, duck around her instead.]
[action]
[She opens her arms at once. They shrink, duck around her instead.]
[They...can't. They can't just now.]
[(They might not ever let go.)]
It's okay.