"Yeah, probably," says Nona.

"I don't know if I can go, even so."

"I know," says Nona.

"He was pretending such civility. I thought I could put him off. I couldn't."

"He does that."

"Does he really think on some level that I - that we - that -" She can't finish the sentence.

"I don't think he cares. About anything. He just wants us to play along, and if we don't, he makes us."

Etty wipes her eyes with her good hand.

"I'm sorry," she murmurs.

"I'm sorry," she says again.

"Tell me what I need to do," Etty says in a low voice, "that you can promise and mean it - tell me who I need to be -"

"...I don't think I can do that," she says. "You're already yourself, and I love you, don't I? I just don't know how to make promises about it."

Etty drops her forehead onto her knee and sobs again.

Nona curls up a little closer.

When they touch, Etty flinches back with a strangled squeak.

She settles back a little and doesn't say anything.

"I'm sorry," whispers Etty.

"Why?"

"For - I know you're not him."

"Me too. It's okay."

"I don't know if it will be."

"I don't either. But if it is I can -" She shakes her head ruefully. "Try flying."

"I bet flying is fun."