Firefly Glen the grand optimist

It was her! 

Hydra!—he wanted to cry out to her, but surprise and trepidation left him struck mute. Whatsoever could he possibly say to rectify years of unchecked longing, want, and failure on his part? And how, then, would she even take it. She hadn't brandished teeth nor ire towards him yet, but what did it all mean? Standing so near, he could detect the traces of others on her coat and one, in particular, which snarled the rivers of clarity with conflicted notions of upset and understanding. Another.

That quiet place within his heart, where the ashes of his flame smoldered, guttered in the chill that rolled down through his veins. 

And why not? For none were more deserving than—

"Hello Hydra," he spoke at last, shattering the uncertain silence with his gravelly timbre, while his gaze roved across the familiar planes of her pretty, but wildwrought, face.