(She already had it written. She'd sat down some time ago, and penned a letter of goodbye to send to Lucretia should she ever find herself in a situation with no time on her hands at all. Just in case. It's clever, sensible, so very Beverly that it makes Lucretia's love for her flare up in her heart like a flame. She wrests her hands back, but only so she can cup Beverly's face in both again and kiss her, once, twice, before she can help herself. Even if Beverly doesn't... even if things are different, now, surely Beverly will grant her a bit of closeness after everything.)

Okay, (she murmurs, pressing their foreheads gently together. Beverly's cheeks are wet with tears underneath of her thumbs. Yes, it had hurt, but that will ease with time– and how could she blame her for her sudden departure? She'd been granted a sudden opportunity to go back home to her child, of course it threw her off.

She's slightly ashamed now, for feeling so bitter and hollow over it. She closes her eyes.)

I love you too much for you to leave without saying goodbye. (If she can impart anything onto Beverly in this moment, let it be this.) You can't– even if it's only for a minute, even if it's only for half of that, I... (a soft sniff. Her voice is very quiet now.) Next time, promise you'll call for me. Please.