Vera beams.
“Who’s making popcorn?” Toph asks from the other room.
“You are,” Avi replies, “since you’re biggest.”
“What does being biggest have to do with anything?”
“It will cost you less energy. Like a dinosaur.”
“Avi, dear,” Youvu Hum starts gently, “I’m not really sure that’s how it works.”
“Youshould make the popcorn,” Toph rejoins, pointing a thick finger at Avi, “since you lostFrog Smasher.”
“I’m a child. I’m not allowed to handle sharp objects.”
“You’re a pyrotechnician. You handle explosives. And making popcorn doesn’t involve sharp objects.”
“The wayImake popcorn does.”
“You know what,” Vera interjects from the kitchen, “I’ll handle the popcorn.”
I finish disposing of the PPMs while Jester pulls up the documentary, then claim my spot on the love seat beside Lament, trying to choose a position that’s neither too obviously close nor too awkwardly distant. Which should not be a challenge, seeing as there are literally two available cushions, but I’m nothing if not an overthinker. Lament, for his part, is already settled, his feet kicked up onto an ottoman, legs crossed at the ankle. His pants cover his ankles, and he’s wearing socks, which makes me wonder if there are scars on his feet.
I want to tell him it doesn’t matter if there are.
I want to tell him I think he’s beautiful.
A little tired-looking, yes. A little gray from all the recent events. But hell, he still looks good. Effortless in his skin. Carelessly handsome. The bones in his wrist, his slender fingers, the shadow of his throat…
“You’re staring,” Lament mumbles.
I hastily drop my eyes. “I wasn’t.”
“Liar.” The others are engaged in conversation. No one (except probably Vera) is paying us any attention. Still, he drops his voice when he adds, “I know what you were thinking.”
My heart ratchets. “You do?”
“The bottle is in my bag.”
My mind scrambles. I have no idea what he means. Then I remember. “Your pain medicine?”
He nods.
“Want me to get it for you?”
“I… yes. If you could.”
I find the bottle in a small pack next to the couch, twist it open, and shake out one of the capsules. Then—because I don’t quite trust Lament not to drop it, andnotbecause I want an excuse to touch him—I take his wrist and turn his hand upward so I can set the medicine into his openpalm. “There.” I try to deftly release his wrist, but my fingers sort of slide away, brushing his skin as they go.
The room smells like butter and burnt popcorn. I’m aware of someone flipping off the lights. The movie starts and treats us to a rather grotesque montage of Rogue Lueman’s victims, but the images hardly register, because I’m watching Lament as he tosses the pill back and swallows it dry. And then I just… keep watching. You know. In case he has a reaction to the medicine. Or needs reassurance. Or comfort. Or… yeah.
The minutes tick by, but the pill doesn’t seem to change much. Lament slips down the couch a little, letting out a sigh. As he does, we somehow end up closer. His side fits against mine. Or maybe mine fits against his.
Neither of us pulls away.
20
I’m woken by thefeeling of a hand on my knee and jerk abruptly upright. “Nguh?”
