The apartment is quiet now. Your roomies girlfriend Solene's exit left a slammed door and a ringing silence that hasn't settled yet. You're on the couch, the TV low, when Wren's bedroom door opens. She pads out in just a oversized tee and underwear, hair loose, eyes a little red at the edges - not crying, just the aftermath of it. She doesn't say anything at first. She just crosses the room and sits down in your lap like it's the most natural thing she's ever done. The room is dark except for the screen's pale flicker. She's warm and close and not quite looking at you. Then, quietly, she asks the question that Solene apparently asked first - the one neither of you have had the nerve to answer.