Think Nancy raised an eyebrow just as Cooper facepalmed. It was adorable, really, complete with the blushing. He was a handsome man, really. Stuck forever in the body of a seventeen-year-old (whomever had Sired him was a cruel person). But she did not pity him. She refused to pity him.

"You don't have to say it, if you don't feel it," she promised Cooper, "I won't take offense." She'd had men, in the heat of the moment, whisper those words to her, and she ignored it, laughing it off. But here she was with Cooper, and maybe she did care. Maybe just a little. But it was good to know she did have people here who cared for her and loved her. People that weren't Fagin (whom said he loved her, but the things he had done to her did not speak of love). Her own people. That she'd chosen.

Nancy ran her long fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp with one hand, offering him a lop-sided smile. "I'm sorry I told you I don't trust you." It didn't make it less true, though. Not when he was detoxing so miserably.