"I think… I don't mind spending my time with you."
Silence did not crush the words. It held them. He did not make a joke. He also did not make a vow. He only set his mouth against her forehead for a moment, then leaned back enough that they could both breathe the same air without stealing it from each other.
Later, he thought. She saw it move behind his eyes. If later arrives, we will not waste it.
The line slept in little watches. The veil-door forgot them again. The alarm hair lay like a cat on a warm sill. The Brake Choir hummed in a healthier key. Their breathing found each other, then stayed together, without anyone giving an order.
Morning came thinner than before. The crystals were stingy. She woke to the same hand on her wrist, the same weight at his hip, the same tick that now felt like a pact. She could feel the smile trying to be born at the corner of her mouth. She strangled it. Partly. Enough.
"Status," she whispered.
