Wapun Meadow bébé ils ne veulent pas de toi

A chill washed over her.

Time felt like it slowed to an agonzing crawl with those final words; if she had truly been a fish then she would have been the easiest caught one lured in by a nothing more than a shiny hook breaking surface tension. Those words sounded like the most genuine thing that she had ever heard. Perhaps they were.

Her mouth opened to ask another question, but her tongue felt dumb and the question never came; the chill turned to pins and needles as something rang true in her. She wouldn't have to be alone any more, weighed down beneath some sort of self-inflicted guilt. She could simply let go of things, maybe, with a little work.

Phoebe's gaze wavered once more, towards the ground.

She righted it, sensing a genuine resolution instead.

"I'd like that. Very much so."