She fell silent again, processing. This plan was a worrisome development. To top it off, her confession still lingered in her belly under the face of her dragon.

Strange when the person giving comfort was also the most uncomfortable. Still, she pressed into him further—a warm body, in that moment, where there was nothing to do but exist and let time determine Rocket’s fate. The greatness of her influence as an avatar on any outcome had not yet fully settled in. 

She watched him look at numbers she didn’t bother to try to make sense of. Instead, she strayed from the topic again.

Her back slid up his abdomen so that the nape of her neck could slope against his shoulder, giving her reach of the spot behind his ear. Her lips found it, grazing lightly. “Fernando, what’s my name?”

This moment was different than last time. Instead of behind him with a gun at his back, she was in the most vulnerable position she could have been. Her body didn’t tense. There was no aggression, nor flightiness. Instead, the bridge of her nose nuzzled into soft skin at the curve of his jaw, showing deeper affection than she'd yet shown him.

“Sometimes I just want to be me, too.” The low volume of her whisper scarcely hid the pain.

If it was off the mark, so be it. She’d recover somehow, or chalk it all up to nerve-induced nonsense.

That was it. That was the answer she’d needed.

Her bangs splayed against the start of the back of his hairline, still essentially nuzzling a warm body, although the illusion of his soul was starting to worm its way into a chasmic cellar in her heart.

No. Not him. The MIST.

She was at a loss for what to say. It was one of those sorts of moments: a ‘How did I even get here?’

The arch of a foot created an underwater wave and she shifted—the only evidence of nerves arisen. And then, he shifted more, and his grip uncoiled.

Conscious of her shrinking despite his influence, she straightened beside him and then went to bring a leg around his torso, placing herself above him and keeping him there if only to say a few words. She looked him in the eyes in a way he often avoided—forceful. “You’re more fun than I’ve had in a long time, and it scares me quite a bit.”

She thought for a moment, eyes not leaving him. Eventually, they dropped somewhere into an abyss.

“Losing you.”

Her body released him, and she stood to get out and reach for a towel, then dried herself.

She was unsure how to take such a short response. Her eyes lingered on the floor, somewhat dejectedly. Blotting the last drops, the towel was then wrapped around her torso.

Her verbal leap into deep water was met with shock, and she paddled back, away from the risk-ridden depth of his questions. A shrug visibly checked her shift in mood, accompanied by an out-of-place smile. “Shit happens.”

Everyone does.

Her eyes narrowed, forehead wrinkling at cliché advice, and then at the unexpected bomb of his news. What do you even say to that?

She blinked. In that moment, it would be perfectly clear just how detached Lulu was. He'd not pulled her close enough in the right moment. He'd asked too many questions when he should have just shut up. He'd said the worst thing he could have.

Her face was stone cold, devoid of the pain which had been chased off by a forced smile. Devoid of anything, really.

“Oh.”

Well. Fuck. That figures, doesn’t it?

Every ounce of fun was sucked out. This new information felt more like a vacuum than anything illuminating.

She was fairly sure her lifestyle would kill her well before his ten years had passed, if not for the same reason (surely sleeping for a few hours every few days wasn't good for the body either), and regardless, being someone’s occasional fuck, no matter how much he liked her, did not bode well for a long relationship of any kind—nor did her objectives.

It was that bit about Avatarship which really piqued her interest. She thought of Cillian Quinn more than herself. For some reason, she expected him to live longer than her.

Fernando be met with mostly silence, still. There was no smile on her face. It was the MISTY TERRAIN alone which kept her rooted there before him, and from dressing to leave. Hatred for the world and everything in it swirled, deep beneath the surface like a submarine.

He broke the distance and she stared up at him. “What?” That she was an Avatar?