Her lips pull back in a snarl, teeth bared at him for just a heartbeat -- and then gone, everything hidden under a calm veneer as she joins him. I don't know you well enough to have any kind of 'faith' in you, just yet. What are we doing here?
He welcomes her with a mile smile, offering memories through that wall. This vista, a landscape of burning tanks, corpses, and rain. Harry. And herself, quiet sly green in the dark bedroom and Ulti's teeth on her skin. But you've known me all along.
He offers more of those rich, dark memories, and darker speculation, even as his own green slides into her skin, close-fitting and warm. If she opens her eyes, his are watching her, amused and shot through with gold.
Norman... Her power coils inside his mind, trying to find her fiancee, hold onto his voice. See if he'll hate her if she lets this one... And she doesn't move against those ethreal touches -- why would she, when it wouldn't do any good -- but she doesn't push them away, either. Wavering, and since when has an Osborn been able to resist their Goblin?
It's hard to find a boundary, isn't it? Norman, her Norman, is only half an observer to his other side's thoughts and opinions. Hate her? No. Be thrilled about it? No. You see, what applies to her, applies to him.