I step furtherinto the room.
Not close. Just enough to feel the shift in proximity.
“You weren’t sleeping before,” I say.
“I wasn’t safe before.”
I pause. “And now you are?”
She shrugs one shoulder. “Not really. But you’re here. So my odds improved.”
That hits me harder than it should.
I move to the far wall and lean against it—an affectation. I don’t need the support. But it makes the space between us feel less... charged.
She watches me. Always watching. Her gaze isn’t passive. It’s active. Cutting. Like she’s gathering intelligence through instinct.
“You always this talkative after a nap?” I ask.
“Only when my death-eyed alien bodyguard returns without warning.”
“I knocked.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Internally.”
She snorts. “Sure. Telepathic protocol. Got it.”
Another silence. But this one isn’t brittle.
It’scurious.
“You don’t like this place,” I say.
“No shit.”
“You don’t trust me.”
“Nope.”
“But you speak freely.”
She raises an eyebrow. “You want me to stop?”
“No.”
“Then what’s the point of the observation?”
I hesitate. Not for calculation. For choice.
“To understand your pattern,” I say.
She laughs softly, bitter. “Good luck. I haven’t had one in years.”
“You do now.”
That makes her go still.
