[ There are gaps in the filter Krouse used to sift everything he said to her through, worn away by lack of repetition and torn wider by the overflow of relief at being able to say anything to her at all. He wants to be careful, but his carefulness is being taken up by other things.

After everything, it might not be so bad to just talk. She doesn't seem to mind, and so he doesn't notice his own lapse. ]

They did?

[ It doesn't ring a bell for him, but he hasn't seen everything Noelle has. He almost asks which movie it was, so he can go find it later, and the absurdity of that want sparks off-kilter fizz in his stomach. It's not bad. Just a little funny. ]

And I don't know, exactly. It screws with temperature regulation.

[ This next part, he is mindful of. His thumbnail teases the strands of his grass braid, and then he brings it up to start working on it again, not looking down or breaking his stride. He won't look away from her face. ]

The fix is touching someone else for a while.

[ And he doesn't need to elaborate on why that means they should be careful, and he can't help the flicker of want that comes with it anyway. But there's another reason, besides the ones she already knows all too well, their reminder stiffening in a crumpled heap in a room they won't go back to - ]

It makes you feel what the other person is feeling while it works. Some kind of empathy effect. I don't know why that's linked. I don't - [ he takes a shallow half-breath, shaking his head ] I don't get what's going on here.

[ Maybe he shouldn't admit it, but he can't tell her more lies she won't believe. He's not wasting whatever time they have like that. ]