Honestly, when she sees him, she almost thinks it's just-- this town, this place. Another illusion, another lie. Something to get fingers in her chest. But somehow, watching him standing there, poking at his Fluid and she starts to entertain the idea that maybe this isn't another trick, another lie.

She's likely a little bit different than the last time he saw her. Colder, angrier, though it lurks under the surface, the sort of thing she doesn't talk about. Not like she knows anyone well enough for it to matter. No one's sharp enough to pick up on it, so it just festers. "How do you manage to mess up a touch-screen?"

I hope you can learn to stop caring about the people who keep hurting you, she'd written to him in a letter not so very long ago. And yet, she walks over easy as anything, steps silent and light as she brushes red hair behind one of her ears. Some mistakes were hard to resist.