"Dale!" Marcus called, from across the camp. "Dale, get over here a sec, would you?"

Dale didn’t answer straight away. He was still staring at Nyx.

The drop of blood down his nose was progressing.

"Sorry," he said, to no one in particular. "Sorry. Sorry. Nosebleeds. Get ’em when — when the pressure changes. Sorry."

He stood, wiped his face on the back of his sleeve in a single hard drag, and walked away without looking at either of them again. His shoulders were stiffer than they’d been on the walk over.

The temperature came back up.

Finn let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding and looked sideways.

Nyx hadn’t moved a muscle.

She was still sitting in the exact pose she’d held for the entire encounter — hands folded, hood low, eyes half-closed beneath it. The picture of a sleepy, ill-looking girl recovering from a long walk.

The only thing that gave her away was a single corner of her mouth, lifted just enough to qualify as a smirk.

Finn watched Dale’s back retreat across the car park. The man kept dragging the heel of his hand under his nose, peering at it, dragging again. He didn’t look back once.

’Nyx.’

’Mm?’

’What did you just do.’

’I am afraid you must be more specific. I have done a great many things in the last several minutes. Surviving. Sitting. Being looked at. Wearing this rather charming coat. Any one of them might qualify.’

He turned his head slowly to look at her.

She did not return the look. Her eyes had drifted closed entirely now, as though the very effort of being interrogated was lulling her toward sleep.

’Nyx.’

’...Perhaps he found me intimidating.’

He pulled up her sheet again, very slowly, and scrolled all the way down to where her skills were listed. Shadow Step. Whisper. That was it. Two skills. Nothing under Passives. Nothing hidden. Nothing that explained why a grown man had just sprung a leak.

His eyes drifted up.

Under [Titles], one word glowed in soft, faint letters.

[ Hidden ]

’Nyx.’

’Bearer.’

’How much of what you can actually do is on your sheet?’

She was silent for a moment.

’Not as much as I would like.’

’That’s not an answer.’

’No. It isn’t. But most things are sealed, Bearer. I cannot always tell which, until it is tested.’

He thought about that for a while.

’...Okay.’

’Okay?’

’Okay. Just — give me a heads up next time.’

She made a small, pleased sound in his head. ’As you wish.’

Finn sighed. For a moment the silence held between them, until Nyx broke it.

"You did look rather charming, you know."

Finn tipped his head sideways. "What?"

"When that man leaned in. You had a particular expression. Quite striking, in a feral sort of way. As though you were about to do something terribly dangerous. I didn’t think you were capable of making such a face."

"I was going to politely ask him to leave."

"Mm. Yes. With a knife. Through his throat, I believe. Quite a polite request."

He felt the corner of his mouth twitch despite himself. "I wasn’t actually going to do it."

The silence that followed was a fraction of a second longer than it should have been.

"Bearer."

"Yeah."

"You are aware I can hear your thoughts, yes?"

He didn’t answer.

The teasing edge had drained from her voice, replaced by something quieter. Not accusatory. Not even particularly surprised. Just — careful.

’Have you killed someone before, Bearer?’

The question was light. Almost idle. The way she’d asked whether the Toyota was dangerous.

Finn didn’t answer straight away.

For half a second a memory rose in him — a kitchen, a long evening, the sound his mother had made in the doorway that he’d never be able to forget. He pushed it down the way he had pushed it down ten thousand times before.

It wasn’t enough to escape Nyx’s notice.

’That thought you just had... was that—’

Something shifted in Finn at the words. When he turned to look at her, the face he wore made her retract slightly..

"I know you mean nothing ill of it. But don’t pry into my past, Nyx."

He said it quietly. Without heat. The way you’d close a door you didn’t want anyone walking through.

’Same as I won’t pry into yours.’

She went very still beside him. Her face beneath the hood was simply quiet, and her crimson eyes had opened a fraction, watching him sideways with an expression he couldn’t read.

’You are right. That was rude of me. It shan’t happen again.’

He let his head rest back against the brick.

A few yards further down the car park, the little girl with the stuffed rabbit had finally let go of it. She was kneeling beside the pink gazebo now, having a serious conversation with the rabbit about something that had clearly upset both of them.

The rabbit was being held at arm’s length and lectured. One of its ears, dangling by a thread, flopped agreeably in the breeze.

Finn felt Nyx’s gaze drift in that direction.

For a long moment she was quiet.

Then, in a tone he hadn’t yet heard her use:

’She is going to lose the ear, you know.’

’Mm?’

’The rabbit. The seam at the base is gone. One more good cuddle and the ear is on the floor.’

Finn opened his eyes properly.

Nyx was watching the girl from beneath her hood with an expression that could only loosely be called amused. The smirk was there — it was always there — but underneath it was something quieter. Something that, on a different face, in a different body, might have been mistaken for fondness.

’You like rabbits?’

’I do not have an opinion on rabbits, Bearer. I have an opinion on craftsmanship. That is shoddy stitching.’

’...Right.’

’A child should not have to mourn her companion because its maker could not be bothered to double-thread a seam.’

Finn watched her for a moment longer.

It was the most ordinary thing she’d said since he’d summoned her. No wit cut to a fine edge. No grand pronouncement about metal beasts or men with thin smiles. Just a girl, looking at another girl, noticing something a grown man would have walked past and not seen.

His own stomach chose that exact moment to make a sound that was, frankly, embarrassing.

Nyx did not comment. She was, however, very definitely amused.

He tried to remember the last thing he’d put in his mouth. He’d been brushing his teeth, before the windows had blown in. That meant the last meal had been somewhere around last night, and the sun was already starting its slow slide toward the trolley wall.

Then the second realisation hit him, and it sat heavier than the first.

’Nyx.’

’Bearer.’

’When was the last time you ate something?’

She paused, just for a beat. As if she’d been waiting on the question without expecting him to actually ask it.

’I have not.’

’...What, today?’

’I cannot remember the last time i ate something, Bearer. If I had to guess, my last meal was from before I got imprisoned.’

He looked at her properly.

She was thinner than she had any business being. Her cheekbones were a little too pronounced under the hood. Her wrist, when it slipped out of the oversized sleeve to rest in her lap, was small enough that he could have closed his fingers around it twice over.

He had, somehow, not registered any of it until this exact second.

’Aren’t you hungry and what, what would you consume? Normally.’

She did not answer immediately. When she did, her voice was light, but there was something careful underneath it.

’Many things. Less than people would assume.’

’Blood?’

’That is my main source of sustenance. But as a pureblood Vampire I can sustain myself through the same meals as you humans.’

He filed that away for later. It was the closest thing to a straight answer he’d gotten from her about herself all day.

’Right,’ he said. ’Then we should go get something for us to eat. Fortunately for us, there’s a Tesco right there.’