[That manages to elicit a small noise that's somewhere between a laugh and a sob. When she speaks, she manages at least a fraction of her normal composure, despite murmuring into his shoulder. It's the best she can manage.]

Perhaps if you were less pathetic I wouldn't have to.

[The gently mocking tone, however, slips away a moment later, and her voice sounds shaky again when she adds-]

Don't leave. You can't leave.

[She knows it's demanding, knows she has no right, knows he can't even control it, but it slips out anyway. Childish. Foolish.]