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The silence between them was like a knife slowly, shallowly cutting through skin; not hurting enough to make either of them scream out in pain, but the blood dripping down the arm was uncomfortable and made Laurel's skin crawl. In a way, he no longer needed to answer. In a way, Laurel hoped he wouldn't answer. If he hadn't answered, Laurel would have prompted again, even though she knew better. Even though she knew she didn't want to know.

Eventually, he spoke.

Laurel frowned and looked away, thoughts spilling into her mind. You don't even like him, dearest, hissed Iliksis' venomous voice. That's what you always tell yourself and me, anyway. A jab as painful as the shallow knife. Shut up, she hissed under her breath, head turned away from Mahler. She just wanted him to go away. He'd been quiet, for a little bit, but whenever there was pain...

Mahler said he had treated it. That was good. That meant it could be treated. Laurel, too, was silent for some time; this time, she was the one that allowed the knife to continue to slowly and painfully cut its way through her flesh.

Eventually, she said, Well, fix it. It was more of a command than anything else. Laurel'd never been good at these kind of things. Emotions. She didn't know what else to say. Something actually kind for a change, perhaps, dearest? I'm sure you'll manage to fix it. Laurel couldn't face the prospect that she would lose Mahler. Sequoia was her only friend here and of course, she had said so many times that Mahler was nothing but a blight on her life. But the thought of losing him was overwhelming all of a sudden. She didn't want to lose him, and especially not like this. Not while they hadn't worked through their differences.

Yet Laurel also felt the gripping fear that they would never work through their differences. That there'd never be a better day between them. That they'd never, gray and old, sit by Birdsong Lagoon laughing about how silly they were when they were younger.

She'd always dreaded that to happen. But now it was no longer only because she feared that they would never reconcile.

Now it was because she feared that they may never be gray and old.