…Right.

[A pause, tentative. This world is teaching Aubrey to speak before it can speak for her. Not without reluctance, but…] Where… would you be going?

[A betrayal, nonetheless: You know I don’t want to lose you.]

[She leans closer; not quite aware, not expecting otherwise. Maybe it’s “You are mine” that she should be concerned about—but how can she be, when there’s a hand-shaped warmth over her heart? Of course she’s his. They’re each others’.]