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"Thanks."

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"You're welcome."

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"Do you need anything else?"

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...well... 'yes' might not be a good answer here, given what he's thinking of, but 'no' is debatable...

He settles on, "Maybe?"
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"Maybe?"

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"How about: there's something that I want, that would help, but I don't want to ask for it - I'd rather not have it than ask for it, because of... how things are."

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"Okay."

She doesn't know the details, but with that introduction she thinks she can do without them.
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"Thanks for everything, anyway. You don't have to help me, and I appreciate it."

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"I didn't have any firm plans for what I'd do after getting a less haphazard education," says Aya, "but all of my tentative plans involved some form of being helpful to someone."

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He smiles.

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"So, you're welcome."

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Well, now he's much more cheerful.

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Aya smiles at him.

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Smiles! Smiles are nice.

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And with everything taken care of and the conversation apparently over, Aya excuses herself to her room (door still open). She draws an embroidered cat.

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He wonders why she always keeps her door open, but he doesn't go as far as asking. Instead he just... sits for a while, enjoying how relatively unmiserable he is in comparison to what he's usually like at this stage.

Eventually, he goes back into his room, and emerges dressed for dinner. He pauses to glance in Aya's door before he goes.
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She looks up when he comes out in his dinner clothes.

"Are you going to be okay?" she asks.
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"Sure I will," he says. "Eventually."

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"I mean, is there - added risk, the day after it happens."

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"Not especially, no."

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"Good luck," she says wryly.

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"Thanks."

Off he goes. Dinner takes a normal amount of time, and he comes back from it looking tired and miserable but still capable of walking.
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Aya watches him plod back in.

"...Did something happen?"
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"The usual. It's just - harder to take sitting in the same room with him pretending to be the son he wants, right now."

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