She nods, shivering. 

She stops at the edge of the pool, positioning Cara right at the lip. The water reflects the morning light, deceptively peaceful. "Good. When I push you in, you're going to sink to the bottom and stay there. Hold your breath as long as you can. When you can't anymore, exhale completely and stay down. Don't come up until I pull you up." (§ 12.1-17-02.1) She shifts her grip to Cara's shoulders, feeling that electric thrill intensify. "Ready?"

She nods again. "Yes." 

She doesn't give her time to reconsider. One hard shove sends Cara tumbling backward into the pool with a splash. Vera watches as the girl sinks like a stone, those pretty blue eyes still open and staring up through the water. She starts counting again, pacing along the edge of the pool, tracking the shadow on the bottom.

She's got her instructions! She sinks to the bottom. 

The seconds pass by. 10, 20, 30, 40, 50... 

at about 55 seconds, she shoves the air out of her lungs. 

Fifty-five seconds. Not bad for someone who doesn't know. The bubbles rise to the surface in a rush, and Vera watches them pop, one by one. She keeps counting. Sixty. Seventy. The shadow at the bottom hasn't moved.

At ninety seconds, she sets her feet and dives in. The water hits like ice against her skin, but she keeps her focus entirely on the figure below. Cara's eyes are still open, still that impossible blue, staring at nothing. her lips seal around the girl's, and she exhales into her lungs, hand caressing the turn of her jaw. It's thrilling. Vera wraps an arm around her waist and kicks hard for the surface.

She wasn't ordered to start breathing again, so she's trying very hard not to inhale, even once they surface.

This is okay, she thinks to herself. 

They break the surface and Vera has to suppress a laugh. Of course she's not breathing. "Breathe," she commands, hauling them both to the edge. She keeps one arm wrapped around Cara's waist, the contact singing through her nerves. "In and out. Normal rhythm." She maneuvers them to the shallow end, where she can stand and still support Cara's weight. "Look at you. Perfect little doll. Do you even know what's happening to you?"

She resumes normal breathing, and slowly nods at the question. 

"I... think I do." 

"Oh? Tell me what you think is happening." She shifts her grip, one hand splayed across Cara's stomach, the other still supporting her weight. The contact is intoxicating—she can feel the backlash draining away with every second of skin against skin, nails digging into soft midsection. "Be specific. Use your words." She leans in closer, breath warm against Cara's ear.

She thinks for a long time, and then says in her eerily flat voice: "I'm awakening as an esper. My backlash makes me... easy to boss around. It's doing something else to me, too, that I can't explain. You noticed something what's up with me at the coffee shop this morning, took a closer look, and made some incorrect conclusions about what was wrong with me but did correctly identify that I'm awakening as an esper and informed me. You're also an esper,  we are compatible, and you've been guiding me. You've essentially kidnapped me; you destroyed my phone, and you've been - doing other things to me, too." 

"Kidnapped is such an ugly word. I prefer 'rescued.'" She tightens her grip, pulling Cara flush against her in the water. "And you're welcome, by the way. Without me, you'd have wandered into traffic by Tuesday." She traces a finger along Cara's collarbone, considering. "The thing you can't explain—that would be the part where you're losing pieces of yourself. Bit by bit. Like watching paint dry in reverse." She smiles against Cara's ear. "Lucky for you, I can give you some of those pieces back. When you're ready."

She doesn't want to get them back.

...she tilts her head. 

"Oh, that's interesting." She runs a hand through Cara's wet hair, tugging slightly. "The pieces of you that are left don't want the rest back. Do you even remember what you're missing? Or is it just..." She waves her free hand vaguely. "Gone. Like it never existed in the first place." She starts walking them toward the edge of the pool, keeping Cara pressed close. "Come on. Out of the water. I want to see how far this goes."

She gets out of the water. "...I think I have all my usual memories."

"Memories, sure. But what about the rest?" She helps Cara out of the pool, then grabs a towel and starts drying her off with rough, efficient movements. "What do you want right now? Not what I tell you to want. What do you want?" She pauses, hands still on Cara's shoulders through the towel. "Can you even tell the difference anymore?"

She frowns, her brow furrowed. 

No response.

"That's what I thought." She wraps the towel around Cara's shoulders, then starts walking her back toward the locker room. "You're hollowed out. Like a chocolate Easter bunny—looks fine from the outside, but..." She raps her knuckles gently against Cara's temple. "Nothing but air in there. Well, not nothing. You can still follow instructions. That's something." She pushes through the locker room door. "Sit on the bench. I'm getting dressed, and then we're leaving."

She really hopes that she's right about the situation that she's in. It would be, pretty bad, if she was wrong about how susceptible this one was. And probably a good idea to avoid too many witnesses. She can get the girl to aspirate in the privacy of her own single.

She's just gonna get a sundress that'll dry out fast on and get her inside as soon as posisble.

She sits obediently.

She steps out the door, beckoning to the tranquil girl. "Follow."

She stands and follows, swaying.

She slips an arm around Cara's waist to steady her, the contact sending that pleasant buzz through her nerves again, a mild vasovagal stim. "There we go. Nice and easy." The morning air is crisp against their damp skin as they exit the rec center. A few early joggers pass by, but no one gives them a second glance—just two girls heading home after a swim. She keeps her voice conversational. "You're lucky I found you first. Another hour and campus security would've hauled you to the med center. They'd have no idea what they'd gotten their hands on."

She's going to go in through the always-open fire door in the back to avoid interacting with any vigilant (ha) front desk denizens, if her new toy can make it up some stairs.

The stairs might in fact be a struggle for her, because she won't pace herself. Does Vera set a manageable pace for a sleepdep'd, starving grad student? 

She doesn't, actually. She takes the stairs at her normal clip and watches with clinical interest as Cara struggles to keep up, breath coming in harsh gasps by the second landing. "Stop wheezing," she says mildly, not slowing down. "It's only three more flights." The fire door slams behind them with a metallic clang. She can feel Cara starting to stumble through their connected arms, but she just tightens her grip and keeps going. If the girl collapses, well—that could be interesting too. "Keep your feet under you. I'm not carrying you."