"You do," he conceded, contrite in a way he rarely allowed himself to be. As she charged away from him, her anger and her loneliness and pain a physical thing crackling between them, as it always was.

He did know her, and she knew him, and that was the miraculous problem, wasn't it?

Sighing, he followed just a bit behind.

"It's this way," he said as they approached the station, stepping front only to lead her down the stairs towards the Information booth.