She blinks, twice, before pulling away again and nodding.

"Okay."

It would normally spark a reaction from her to hear that he kept women's clothing in his room. Normally, it would sting, and she would be assertive and say something because it would sting in some stupid, inappropriate way.

Because they aren't her clothes.

But she doesn't say anything at all, and instead walks away slowly to retrace her steps. Back to his bathroom, back into his room, opening drawers and drawing fingers over various fabrics. Nothing stands out because it doesn't belong to her. Nothing in her proper size or style because it doesn't matter.

She shrugs something on and hangs up the towel to dry and returns to the bathroom to clean up the tattered, blood-stained dress. In the other room, she can hear Fernando clicking away at his keyboard. The silence is relaxing if only because his presence in general keeps her calm.

Eventually, she returns to the same room he is in to sit in a chair across from him and sit quietly.

FERNANDO SILPH

☉

His discomfort isn't noted. His suggestion or encouragement for her to do something else, to do 'whatever she wants' is met with a subtle nod. She hears it, but she isn't really listening.

Her mind is on something else, jumping to conclusions, re-living what had happened.

But more than that, her mind is somewhere dark where cruel and unfair thoughts begin to fester. When he mentions the tablet and her phone, she realizes she's lost it- and her purse. In the confusion, she hadn't thought about gathering her belongings. Rushing to coat check on her way out of a misty haze of insanity must have slipped her mind.

"Have I failed?"

The woman's voice is barely above a whisper, and her eyes flick up from her hands knotted together in front of her to meet his. She doesn't maintain eye-contact, however, for fear what of what she might find reflected back at her.

FERNANDO SILPH

☉

She blinks, pulled sharply from her inner turmoil to watch him. The fear softens for a moment beneath his gaze- but it doesn't last.

"I thought I saw someone before they shot at me. I thought I might have even seen a Pokemon."

But she can't remember because she had been too preoccupied with herself and the influence of the mist to worry about it. Until it had almost been too late, that is.

The woman sucks in a breath, leans back in her seat and smooths her hands down her stomach and across her knees. She squeezes, thinking.

"What are you typing?"

FERNANDO SILPH

☉

For once, for now, she's thankful his attention isn't on her. She can see him uninterrupted, watch his intensity focused on someone other than herself. His fingers fly across the keyboard, precise while he jots down every thought that blinks across his mind.

If she wasn't exhausted, she might have pried for more, might have joined him to peer over his shoulder to witness his brain at work.

But she doesn't.

"What's the Syndicate?"

If she was supposed to know about whatever it was, blame it on trauma. Briefly, at the click of his tongue, Stormy glances at his lips pressed together. Focused.

"Did you see anything in the mist?"

FERNANDO SILPH

☉

Stormy blinks, glancing away from him while she thinks and attempts to recall the details of it. She remembers seeing a warning, but admittedly had not committed it to memory. The realization makes her stomach clench painfully with regret.

"Mount Chimney? Shouldn't we go and investigate, see if we can't find something there?"

His following answer strikes a chord in her. She revisits feelings of jealousy and agitation. They are a distraction for the panic gripping her now, but she preys on it anyway.

"How did you escape the mist? I saw you with Illeana. You left with her, I thought, and she was in the mist, too."

She meets his gaze, too, her fingers clench and relax quickly.

FERNANDO SILPH

☉

They danced.

But there was something more to it than that. There had been an uncomfortable swirl of emotions that rose when she'd witnessed it-- when Illeana had pulled away from her.

She hadn't been requesting Illie's company though, not really.

"No, I suppose that you don't."

Because if he did, he would have paid attention, and he would have been there sooner. Her thoughts are malicious and unfair, manifesting from jealousy and bitterness.

"Do you even want me here?"

FERNANDO SILPH

☉

His response does not satisfy her, not that it ever truly has. Once more, he doesn't tell the truth- or at least, not the truth that she wants to hear. She can hear the hesitation or the frustration in his clipped tone and exasperation.

She's annoying him.

So she swallows, clenches her fists tight, and pulls herself away.

"Then I will do what it takes for me to be okay- so that I can leave you alone, Fernando."

What he wants has always mattered.

FERNANDO SILPH

☉