Communication Breakdown

Ok, calm down, Laurel. Either you're so pretty he doesn't mind how incredibly awkward you are, or he is being completely honest when he says he loves you. You know, either one's alright by me.
When everyone else went in to get the table and food, Gunnar asked me to hang back and talk for a second. I wasn't sure what to expect, so I started off by explaining to him that I didn't mean to put him on the spot like that, I just managed to forget about everybody else. When we're not in the midst of a shootout, he kinda does that to me.
"That's not something I usually say," I explained, which was true. I think the last time I said those words was almost a decade ago, the last time I talked to my mom and she was really there to hear me. I never even said it to Hal, who deserved it after putting up with me for two and a half years. "But after that explosion -- which sent me running to find you -- I realized it was true and even if it wasn't reciprocal or you were one of those guys who takes a while to be sure I wanted to make sure you knew that I was sure."
Yeah, that thing where I get nervous and ramble and my sentences just get longer until finally the creeping realization that I should just shut the hell up finally catches up with the speed of my mouth? Always fucking happens when I'm talking to him. When I'm in the hospital or just dealing with the normal guys who stare when I walk by, I'm all cool and finesse. But this guy I met in Vegas gives me a goofy grin, and then I'm tripping over my own tongue. I remembered to breathe, and moved on to the actual point.
"If you do actually feel like you need to go back to Chicago, then... just lemme know if you want some company. I'm not sure when I'd make it out there, but I've always wanted to see the city. Or, um, if you just want space... then that's fine too. I can just work on things out here for a while... I mean, I need to figure out what to do with all of these kids..." And I went through the list of all the shit that would keep me away if he left, until finally he shut me up.
"It's not a big deal, about saying, 'I love you,'" he started. "I'm cool with it, and I love you too." And I'm a little glad that I had so much on my mind, and that it took a second for that bit to sink in, because I probably would have just embarrassed myself again. Because I had so much on my mind, my ears kept functioning and I heard the part that was really important: "I want to help you -- and I refuse to ignore these kids." It was good to know that our priorities line up pretty much the same when it comes to catching these sick bastards. "Inexcusable" I think was the word he used. He said he's going to look into the ghost thing when he's got time, but mostly he's creeped out.
I told him I was too, a little. Since we were being honest. "This isn't like you," I admitted. Not like what I knew of him, anyway. "I've got this image of you in my head. You... you're Superhero-Gunnar," I told him, grinning kinda proudly. "You barrel in where angels fear to tread, and you shake off explosions like pillowfights." I got a grin out of him too, at that. It was more like normal, and that was a relief. He said he could get used to being called that and I couldn't help but return that smile. I told him I was going to tap into Sibyl later, then I mentioned offhandedly and without thinking that I'd think about adopting some of these kids, if I weren't about to go cross country. I'm still thinking about it, but I'm a little scared what might happen in the interim. Gair seems to have awful luck with foster homes, and I don't know if Susan has any family. Any family besides me, that is. I'd be glad to take her in, and I ... I'm getting away from the point. I told Gunnar that if there was any way I could help him shake off the funk, all he had to do was ask. If I'd thought of something already, he wouldn't have to ask.
But he had thought of something, that maybe that guy... Tim? put some sort of curse on him or something. He had an idea that maybe getting the rifle out of his possession would help. So he said he wanted me to take it, and some stuff about if someone else would be better they could take it that I didn't really hear. I put my hand on my throat like in those stupid jewelry commercials and romantic comedies, and put on my best fake emotional voice and told him, "You had me at 'take the rifle.'" So now I have a sniper rifle, and a boyfriend who, I know, loves me. Rock on.