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A beautiful blossoming flower of womanhood.

[ merrily, the easiest and most blatant dodge he's ever made in his life. carol even gets one of his brighter smiles, all sunny and dazzling like he's about to go through with the biggest deal in the Kaientai's history.

and, slowly, he turns back to lily. (not without a healthy dose of relief.) ]

I'm very happy to hear.

[ that's when he reaches out, hands held out in invite, slow and careful as can be. ]

Sit with me awhile?

Carol is like a flower?

( she blinks, looking back from tatsuma to carol, trying to understand—taking the statement literally. but—no, she's not really a flower. besides, how could one be a flower of womanhood? what did flowers of womanhood look like? so this is a metaphor, clearly— ) Ahh, she's pretty!

( and again, her reaction is a bit shy, because it's still something new, but she's still quick to take the hand—she'll take every comfort she can get—and nods. )

[he's not getting away that easy, she is gonna find out what that means -- but later, when things have settled enough that she feels up to pestering him.

the way things are going, maybe it won't be too long.]

Oh, Lily. You're so much nicer to me than my other kid.

[they're having a moment, it looks like, and carol thinks vaguely that maybe she should go fix herself some more coffee or something and leave them to it, but she's too tired, and the temptation to watch them interact is too strong. so she just folds her arms and snuggles her face into them, hanging like a limpet off the back of the couch.]

[ he almost tells carol to go, to find her bed and have a touching reunion with Sleep as she so obviously needs. yet, he doesn't. he takes lily's hand in his and he settles himself down on his seat for a long stay.

he hopes it'll be long enough. ]

Isn't she, Lily? [ a laugh, a flash of a grin to carol but all his attention is focused on lily, on this little girl in his coat. ]

Have you been settling in? Eating enough? Sleeping enough?

( she's not really used to compliments, so in response lily flushes a little. ) Badou is nice too! He gave me pink lemonade.

( and she nods again in response to the questions—however, stalling on the last one, her gaze dropping down. ) Uhm. . .

[no, carol knows is the answer, no, she hasn't been sleeping, and I'm worried, it's gonna make her sick or something if she keeps this up--

pot calling the kettle black maybe, lately, but it's more important for lily.

anyway, he knows. she told him and he came right over, and if anybody knows the right thing to say to make everything work out okay, it's sakamoto. maybe that's a stupid amount of trust to place in him, but from where carol's standing, he's earned it.

she stays quiet.]

No?

[ his tone is gentle, has been from the start and hasn't changed yet. as he speaks, he lowers his head, tilts it to the side, inquisitive, curious. concerned. gives her hand a little squeeze, reassurance. it's okay. ]

Something wrong? Is it dreams?

[ he goes nowhere near the Heine Issue, not yet. besides, he can commiserate on the bad dreams scenario.

there's nothing harder to shake off. ]

( she's still for a moment, letting her hand be squeezed and squeezing a bit back—just remembering them makes her want to tremble, and she offers a nod once more in response, not quite despondent yet. her voice comes out small, smaller than small, tiny. )

. . . They're scary. . . .

[ his smile softens for her as he nods, once, twice, a heartfelt gesture of understanding. ]

Sometimes, dreams can be the scariest things we'll ever see. [ they'll last for nights, for months, for years and years. ] But you know what?

( no, her dreams are not the scariest, her life is the scariest—her dreams take from her life, and blend them together to create spine-chilling fear and heartwrenching agony, but that is her life.

she tilts her head up, looking up to the older man with questioning eyes. )

. . . What?

You're not alone here. Carol's here for you. Toushirou is here for you. Badou is here for you.

[ a pause, before his smile broadens, warm. ]

I'm here. And so long as I am, so long as we are, you're safe.

I promise.

( her eyes widen, and—she doesn't know what to do now, doesn't know how to respond. her face flushes and lily looks down, her grip tightening on sakamoto's hand—

when heine comforts her, he holds her fiercely and in thinly-veiled desperation, not with the idea of safe but the idea that there was no current danger. lily doesn't know how to react to safe, and she knows how to respond even less to this—warmth, even though it's not heine, sakamoto's words make her warm.

but it's not heine. it's not heine, heine is the one who keeps her safe, heine is the one who needs to be here for her, it's heine.

in her prolonged pause, lily's face returns to its normal, pale shade ( so unblessed without the sun's influence ) and after a longer pause than that, she finally speaks. )

. . . Heine. . . protected us before. Me and Giovanni. He. . . ( it's hard to find the words to convey her thoughts, ) He always. . . protected me, when I got scared. . . . ( she's too afraid to say: but he's not here now, he doesn't want to be here and he won't be here anymore, because if she says it, then it'll become true. )

[ it's like watching a bird, he thinks, with the way she trembles, the way she moves. something small and vulnerable in a way that doesn't feel vulnerable at all, not in the orthodox sense of the term. it's less weak, more alone. an animal without its claws and its brood, a little girl without her packmates. it's sad, sorrowful. it twists something in his heart, makes his chest ache in sympathy. ]

He must be strong. Brave, too. [ just as scared, maybe, in his own way, if he was anything like lily or badou or nill. the frightened were always more brave with another to worry for. ]

You're using the past tense. Why?

He's! He's really brave, and strong! ( it's a bit louder than she intends it to be, but she wants sakamoto to know of heine's strength—not physical, lily's the strongest of their pack but she doesn't feel like the strongest, she feels like the weakest of them all, and heine has what she doesn't: mental strength. ) He always helped me. . .

( she trails off, grows quiet. she doesn't know, she could tell the truth—or she could say something else. finally, she settles on: ) It's different now.

Do you really think so? [ brave, strong. the helper, the protector, the pack leader. another puzzle piece, small, clicks into place. ]

How is it different?

( he doesn't want to deal with it anymore. she's a useless pup, following him around, and he can't deal with that anymore.

words are stuck to her throat, and she just looks down, withdrawing emotionally—the blue in her eyes is distant, like she's looking into a far off place that happens to be in the same location as the couch cushion, and dim, like there isn't a light anymore. )

( slowly, she says only this: ) . . . . He. . . . said so.

[heine's a kid, a scared kid, just like all of them. but a scared kid with people he needs to be strong for. is that better or worse, she wonders vaguely. thinks of the conversation they had, tell lily I'm dead -- is all of this just too much to pile on that kid's thin shoulders?

is carol pushing him too far in trying to fix this, trying to get him to talk to his sister again?

but the state of lily without him is too much for carol to handle. does that make her selfish?

it's all just -- too much.

heavy frown notching her brow, mind reeling with that overwhelming and too-familiar cocktail of guiltworrysadness, carol's eyes start to droop shut.]

We can never leave behind the people we care about, not completely. Even if he's said that, I'm sure it doesn't mean he's stopped caring.

[ he reaches out with a careful hand, brushing at pale strands of hair, a gentle stroke of her head. slow and steady. he could afford to be so, right now. he could afford to wait. ]

( she stops, breath stilling for a moment before she leans into the touch, lips twisted into an attempted smile—but it's not there for very long and her eyes begin to well up. ) But—he. . . said he doesn't. . . can't. . . deal with me anymore. . . .

Someone who cares so much wouldn't change their mind on how they feel, not so easily. Maybe he's scared. People say a lot of sad things when they're afraid.

( she turns her gaze up, head tilting; in a small, wondrous voice, she asks, ) Heine is scared? ( before pausing, looking down, ) What is he so scared about. . . ? I'm not scary. . . . am I?

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