She sighs and balances the parm on her knee.  “What did I get wrong?” How did I fuck up?

"It's better not to....engage too much with my depressing thoughts. Changing the subject to something low stakes instead can help. Like, sitcoms or something."

She nods.  "I gotcha."  Is that what I did wrong or are you just trying to get me the change the subject?  She doesn't ask.

"It's going to find something to latch onto, the goal is avoid...spiraling."

Okay.  Great.  Something concrete I can actually do.  “D’you want me to put on something while we guide?  Podcast, maybe?  Or, uh.  I can just not say anything til you’re at zero?”

"It's worse to feel alone with my thoughts. And if I feel like I'm stopping you from talking. I insulate myself from random people somewhat, but even without the backlash I would feel a little bad asking somebody to sit there in silence the whole time. I listen to music or white noise sometimes. A podcast might work."

“So maybe I tell you the good dungeon stories in between kissing?  Put on some nice neutral podcast if I - we - get tired of kissing?  No true crime or news or anything negative?”  She’s cheering up now that she has a meaningful action she can take with regards to not accidentally tormenting the woman she’s guiding.

"No news, or true crime or recent history podcasts. Stories about particularly unusual dungeons you've been in are fun. The variety is fascinating sometimes."

Well, God knows I have stories.  “Sounds good to me!  What’s your favorite kind of dungeon story?”  She starts back in on her chicken parm.  It tastes better this time.

"The best ones are the ones that are not so much scary as just kind of surreal? LIke, video game logic and that sort of thing."

She hums her acknowledgment through a bite of chicken. Most of the dungeons I go to are the scary kind.

"I could tell you some fun stories from college if you want. With names changed to protect the arguably innocent."

“I would love to hear about college hinjinx.  I had planned on going, and then.  Well.”  She gestures at their surroundings.

"I was actually in my third year of college when I awakened, late awakening. I took a semester off and then decided to go back."

She finishes the last few bites of her chicken and flops down. Without really meaning to, she lays her head on Overcoat’s thigh.  It’s comfortable, being actively guided.  “Was it hard?”

"What college? The hardest part at the beginning was paying for it. I did get a partial scholarship or I wouldn't have been able to go at all, but I was very broke for most of that time."

Nod.  “And then you had your lucky break.”

"Yeah. Even a few months of esper work was enough to solve my money problems for the rest of college, and provide a reasonable advance for my siblings." And pay for her mother to finally formally divorce her trashbag sperm donor but that drama isn't exactly first meeting material.

She nods again.  “I’m glad you earned that much.” You deserve it out, after Hell Week.  God, what a fucked up system.

"One reason I'm glad of how things turned out, despite everything."

"And all the people you helped are glad, too."  It's tempting to ask if she'd be willing to be a pro-guide and buff-deliverer for me.  But.  Then she'd have to see me backlashed.

"It's why I still work confluences."

She flips around and scooches up enough to wrap her arms around Overcoat's waist.  She's not going for skin though.  Just a regular mostly-non-magical hug.  "'m glad you are.  I think I might take a few months off, after the Confluence.  Don't think I'd retire, but.  It's been a long Confluence already."  Feels like half a fuckin' year.

"Might be a good idea, if you can manage it. I spend at least a week doing approximately nothing except being with my family, after it's over."

"How'd you meet him, anyway?  Your husband?"  Do not say he looks nice, it's already weird enough in here.