[ She knew that, at least. She knows more than most people do about him, though. The way there's kindness even behind the sharpest stares or how much comfort those hands of his can bring.

Somehow, he manages to cheer her up with the small indiscretion of his, the awkwardness making her smile into a laughing cough, covering her mouth as it begins to dissipate into a bare hand. The weight of him on her bed feels safer and she supposes he must know it if he's doing it, but it still feels like a rare treat that he's willing to do it. ]

...I'm glad. It seems very dangerous.

[ Not that what they did regularly wasn't dangerous. It usually was, perhaps even more so. Even back home things were dangerous to an extent someone might not come back and yet...

It's not something she cares to linger on. She shakes her head slow and slight in response. Those children were going to make things worse for everyone before it got better, that much she was sure of. ]

Ah, Weavile can. But she's much more aggressively protective than she might seem. I don't want to upset her that much, I hope you can understand. [ She looks over toward him from propped up on the pillows, putting them nearly at equal eye level. Her smile is as real as it can be and genuine, despite the pain. Once their eyes meet, she slowly turns forward and stares to the ceiling in the distance. ] I am beginning to wonder if I've terrible luck. It seems my entire life has been ruled by something out of my hands, no choices are mine and the ones that are still are guided to me. Or, perhaps spurned when something else is attempted. I do not know.

[ Was there nothing that was her own? Some days she wasn't sure. She inches closer to him, despite the sweltering heat and ends up with her cheek to his shoulder blade. ]

I have you, at least. I'm grateful for that.