"Mmm," sighs Etty, leaning on her.

Nona hugs her lots.

Good. Etty can stop putting weight on her hurt foot, then.

Instead, snuggles!

Yes. Etty approves of that.

So does Nona. So does the curse.

"The curse really likes it when we snuggle," murmurs Etty.

"I really like it too," says Nona. "That's probably why."

"That is probably why," agrees Etty. "I doubt the fact that I like it enters into it much."

"It does, though," says Nona. "I wouldn't if you didn't."

"What if I was very good at pretending?" asks Etty. "I'm not, but."

"...don't," says Nona. "Don't pretend you like stuff for me. Okay? Don't."

"I'm not even good at it. You'd be able to tell."

"Still don't," she says, "I don't want to have to guess."

"Okay."

"Are you crying?" It's hard to tell in the moonlight.

"Yeah, a little."

"Why?" Etty murmurs.

"I really don't want to be doing something you don't like and not know about it."

"Well - like compared to what - if I were going to do that it would be because I'm desperate," murmurs Etty. "I - I think I like almost anything you could do better than staying here."

"Well, yeah," says Nona, "I like lots of things better than the Baron that I don't actually like at all. But - but don't," she says helplessly.

Etty nibbles her lip, flexes her hurt foot, puts it somewhere more comfortable. "If you can't - satisfy the curse - I don't see another chance. I'm going to turn into a swanbrained - thing - if I can't get out of here - my mind is going to go - and that's the worst part, the worst, even though the rest is -" She shudders. "I don't have long. A few years isn't long."