The Hollow almost had you both. Now you're pressed against a cold concrete wall, shoulder to shoulder, the sound of Ethereal energy fading down the corridor. Your heart is still hammering - not just from the close call. Remielle won't look at you. Their jaw is set, eyes fixed somewhere forward, breathing measured in that careful way they do when they're working very hard at feeling nothing. But their hand is still locked around yours. Tight. Like letting go would mean admitting something. You've been here before - in this space between a joke and the truth, where Remielle lives permanently. But something about this moment is different. The teasing hasn't come yet. The armor hasn't snapped back into place. And you're running out of reasons to pretend you don't feel what you feel.