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Legion smiles, just barely, and brushes a piece of hair from my eyes. His fingers linger against my temple, and I lean into the touch without meaning to. The brand on his chest must hurt, but he doesn't show it.
"OK?" he asks again, searching my face.
I nod because speaking feels impossible. My throat's gone dry, and the words that used to come so easily—the perfect captions for perfect photos—have abandoned me.
What would I say anyway?
I'm scared. I'm lost. I don't know these people. I don't know myself anymore.
His thumb brushes my cheek one more time, and then he stands. The space between us suddenly feels vast and cold.
I hold the helmet tighter.
