Moonspear stupid piece of shit

There were dozens of thoughts that ran through her head as she observed him paw at his own face. And Hydra went through every option of her own personal "choose your own adventure", considering each of them from a selfish, self-motivated standpoint.

Option 1) Regard that he was crying, verbally, and ask what was up. This would have him believe she cared, and thus have his trust in her grow.

Option 2) Regard that he was crying, tell him that there was no point in dwelling on whatever it was he was crying over if it made him feel badly... so that hopefully, he'd never cry again.

Option 3) Disregard that he was crying and let the dude save some face. This would make her look neither good nor bad, in her opinion... but perhaps better than worse.

Option 4) Walk away, let the dude cry—he'd then know her obvious discomfort in these sorts of situations and know she wasn't someone to cry to.

It was a relatively quick process, her decision making, though she shifted between all of them with no true preference for any except maybe four. If she was being honest, she wanted to walk the hell away from this situation. Seriously, there was nothing she hated more than dealing with tears. Hydra hardly had the patience or the capacity. But, after wavering between all options, Hydra settled for Option 5—

Pretend to be Lyra, and comfort him.

Fuck.

Her eyes went downcast, and she softly corrected him: Lyra, her ears flattening meekly. I like coming here, sometimes... to look at the stars, that much was true. There were better views, but there was also something to be said about being what felt equidistant to earth and sky. Uhm... are... are you okay?