She smiles wider. “You’ve always had a knack for reading people. Half the staff come to you when they’re upset and don’t even realize that’s why. Maybe now you’re just… leaning into it.”
I frown. “Leaning?”
“Using it on purpose,” she clarifies. “Not by accident.”
I think of Sophia’s hands trembling in mine, the way her shoulders finally dropped when the worst of it passed. Not an accident. I chose every point, every word, every breath.
“I want to do more of this,” I admit. Here I am, a gladiator asking to touch people for comfort instead of for show… or to hurt. “Not just perform. Not just make people laugh and forget I was weapon once. I want to help. For real.”
Laura studies me for another long moment. “I think you already are.”
I shake my head. “One person. One time. Want to learn how to do again. Better. Safer.” My stomach does a small, anxious flip. “But I don’t know how to make… place for this. Job. Role.” I gesture vaguely, irritated with my clumsy speech. “In this time, everything seems to need… paper. Plans. Rules.”
“That’s not untrue,” she says, mouth quirking. “But we don’t have to figure all of that out today.”
Relief drains the tension from my shoulders. I hadn’t realized how much I was bracing for her to laugh, or tell me this was foolish, or say there’s no room here for what I’m offering.
Instead, she says, “Start simple. You know what helped that person yesterday. You know what you did with your hands, your voice, your presence. Notice that. Remember it. Do it again for people who want it and feel safe with you.” She pauses. “We can sort out the official stuff later.”
“Official stuff,” I repeat, wrinkling my nose.
“Paper,” she clarifies, amused. “Forms. Schedules. All the boring parts. Let that be my headache, not yours.”
The tightness in my chest eases. “You would help with this?”
“Of course.” She shrugs, like it’s obvious. “We built this place to be more than a tourist attraction. If there’s a way your experience can help people? We should make room for that.”
The idea makes my pulse beat faster.We should make room for that.Forme. For what I know. What I can do.
“But…” I trail off, shame flickering up. “Still not good with writing. Reading.” The words taste bitter. “Hard to explain things in way other people understand.”
“Then don’t start with writing,” Laura says simply. “Start with doing. And when you’re ready to put it into words…” Her gaze turns thoughtful. “You already know someone who’s very good at turning lived experience into things other people can understand.”
My heart kicks hard against my ribs, because I know exactly who she means before she says it.
“Sophia,” I say quietly. “She already asked me to teach her. To document what Philos taught me.”
“There you go.” Laura smiles. “So she’s already in. The question is whether you’re ready to really step into this—not just teaching her, but using it to help others here at the sanctuary.”
Just thinking about working with her on something this important makes my breath deepen. Heat kicks low in my gut, sharp and steady, a feeling I push down, not quite ready to face.
“What if I am not good enough?” I ask quietly. “She believes I can do this. What if I disappoint her?”
“Then she’ll help you figure out what went wrong,” Laura says. “That’s what partners do.”
Partners. The word rings in my ears like the clang of a gate opening.
I stroke Apollo’s neck, more to steady myself than to soothe him. “Is… big thing,” I say. “She already has much work. Many demands. Many people pulling on her mind. This will ask more of her.”
“Let her decide that,” Laura replies. “Your job is to be honest about what you can do and what you want. Hers is to choose whether to step into it with you.”
Step into it with me.
I swallow. My throat feels tight.
“What if I am wrong?” I ask. “What if yesterday was… luck? One time. What if I try to help and make things worse?”
Laura’s expression turns serious. “Then we learn from it,” she says. “And we keep you surrounded by people who will tell you the truth. No one is asking you to fix everything or everyone. I’mjust saying…” She pauses, letting the words settle. “Maybe what you did in the barracks back then has a place here now.”
