[ it's cutting, in its insightfulness. like he'd taken a scalpel to her chest, dissected her sternum to have a glimpse inside. stupidly, she hadn't thought she would be the subject of his study — a mistake she should have known better than to make. very few observations slip past the perception of lonely children, too invisible to the plain eye to go noticed by those that might otherwise put on a facade.

her eyes drift to the fall of her hand cupped in his. he's been more precise in his aim than he could possibly know. what had it cost? mal. her light. and she would trade it all again, worst of all, for that pyrrhic victory.

dimly, all she manages past the wrenching in her chest is, ]

Oh. I thought ... Never mind. You know what I thought.

[ she feels foolish, in spite of it all, for turning tail. for mistaking it as casual disinterest. for a moment, she stews in that silence, absorbing the density of it. then: ]

You're allowed to want to know things, Shuntaro. I'm not so delicate that I can't handle your curiosity.